Whispers on the Wind

A gentle breeze brushes against my cheek.

Like a mother caressing her young child.

Whispers on the wind ask what i seek.

Their voices are gentle and mild.

Spirits of the past or angels of tomorrow

Does it matter to the soul lost in sorrow?

Whatever you are you seem to see

all that is evil buried deep inside of me.

When that evil begins to rise

that is when i hear your soft voice

You tell me not to give in to the lies

And that good and evil is a choice.

Now the wind is blowing strong

The voices that once had a gentle song

They are lost now in fiery rage

The whispers gone, all that's left is this cage.