Рет қаралды 260
She is the daughter of her mother, wild and free,
The one who walks the earth with fire in her feet.
She feels the sharp stones beneath her bare soles,
Yet still, she runs, cursing the world she knows.
Her voice won't be silenced, her spirit won't break,
She’s strong in the face of all the choices they make.
Like Deborah of old, she stands with pride,
A woman of strength with nothing to hide.
The fire in her heart, the storm in her soul,
She'll rise like thunder, making her whole.
She is her mother's savage daughter,
With a voice that won't bow, and a spirit that won't falter.
She looks for omens in the stones and the sky,
In the faces of cats and the feathers that fly.
She sees the dance of fire and the curve of old bones,
And in every movement, she’s never alone.
The world may try to tame her, but she won't comply,
For in her heart, she carries the truth that won’t die.
Like Deborah of old, she stands with pride,
A woman of strength with nothing to hide.
The fire in her heart, the storm in her soul,
She'll rise like thunder, making her whole.
She is her mother's savage daughter,
With a voice that won't bow, and a spirit that won't falter.
In the dark, she dances with the moon above,
Singing songs of power, a melody of love.
The stars may tremble at her every word,
But she knows her song is meant to be heard.
Like Deborah of old, she stands with pride,
A woman of strength with nothing to hide.
The fire in her heart, the storm in her soul,
She'll rise like thunder, making her whole.
She is her mother's savage daughter,
With a voice that won't bow, and a spirit that won't falter.
We are all born from darkness, through blood and pain,
The songs in our bones will call us again.
So sing them loud, let the thunder roll,
For we are the daughters, strong and whole.