Out of dry luck, I was chosen Plucked by a blind hand, From the garden of life Yet here I stand Stung by the thorn The poison and the blood And I wonder, about life And I guess, That this is love And I know as if repeating That I will bend and tilt over But now, my stem is strong and guarded Protecting the pollen I believe is inside And I live, By luck And I'll die, with myself And what I can't see with my eye, I hold by the light of faith