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

Rock