Bags and bags of sand,
Carried by a familiar silhouette,
A feeling many could understand,
A price heavier than debt.
Through the endless heap of bushes,
Careful not to make a sound,
People here spread the hush and shushes,
While the sinners are around.
So quietly carry those bags,
Over to the stream nearby,
Be careful not to brag,
Or else rumors will fly.
Let those sand flow,
Along the stream nearby,
You\'re at your lowest of low,
A stream of endless cry.
But don\'t go just yet,
It\'s dark but a clear sky,
See your reflection up ahead,
And give yourself another try.