No one said it would be a picnic

She knew her morals like the bible

verse for verse and wrong for right

She wanted to add fuel to the revival

and burn a fire into the night

but faith was like salt she couldn't hold

it was bitter the world was cold

the fire was what kept her

and the rain mixed with her tears

People sat upright and judged her

claiming that they were her peers

While they took her ideals like clay

and molded them to fit today

The spark that she had first

was now water in her hands

and the things she once had cursed

replaced the promised lands