The blacksmiths Forge

Life is like a blacksmith's forge,

crushing blows, heat that melts,

iron that is forged to steel,

is purified by a remorseless will.

Oh oh yea yea oh

Some people run from the smithy's shop,

along the easiest road they quickly stop,

they are only iron, a metal base,

in the sun and rain they rust and waste.

Oh oh yea yea oh aaahhh

Our time in the forge must be steady and sure,

blows and heat make a steel that's pure,

a supple frame that will carry it's load,

easy or hard we'll walk the roads,

give our strength when needed.

Aaah oooh yea yea aaah

Memories are colored gold,

not as if money were the force by which we were driven,

but, golden through the love and warmth,

that we receive or that we have given.

Yea yea ooh yea oooh

"A gentle touch

a word soft-spoken,

prove the

shepherds heart.

Aaah yea yea ooh

You have weathered storms and floods,

that would have broken lesser hearts,

your trials and tribulations

would have swept the weak apart.

Yea yea yea

"A gentle touch

a word soft-spoken,

prove the

shepherds heart."

Oh oh yea yea oh yea

Your heart and words

bridge the sea

that keeps us

both apart."

Aaah ooh yea yea