I find myself wishing for a friendly speck of hope;
Someone who can let me know,
That my heart is alive and well like a stethoscope.
I raise my head high toward the sky,
Despite the weight of my fate, or the slop on my plate.
I march forward toward another day,
As time passes by, and I search for words to pray.
The heart of a lion; I live up to it.
But my heart is not iron, so I give up to it.
I wonder is there a friend out there for me.
I dream about who that friend could be.
I wonder, could you friend make me feel free.