On Our Own

We thought we did it on our own,
but the hand of God must have tired.
We thought the smoke and flame,
was love freshly wired.

Something was burning high,
someone cried the battle ensued.
I laughed, you laughed, we did.
The days lingered, they accrued.

We thought we did it on our own,
but our angel must have fled.
We thought we’d made it home,
but the past, staying, still bled.

It was something worth the laughs,
something worth holding to.
It was worth the tears and fights,
something just a bit askew.

We thought we did it on our own,
but we lost it in the hustle.
Pushed through the hassle,
the end started small, a rustle.

It was money and rage
where we set astride.
Now I have my guilt,
and we have our pride.

The hand of God has gone,
divine backs have turned.
In the days come to pass,
we won’t admit we have yearned.

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