We all wrestlle with "soul," to find the goodness we know,
to find that we're in a maze for the days.

Two anxious lovers wrestle in the snow.
Watch their first kiss turn to throwing blows.
They kiss each other on the face
and they hit each other in the face.

Sons of the second string, we are the water-boys...

Which is the lesser of blows?
The kind that punctures and slows?
The kind that kisses bestow?
Whose to say?

Have faith in your little sons of second fiddle.
By God's grace, we will save the day.