.:: Carry on::.

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Ah

Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming,
I can hear them say

Carry on my wayward son,
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man,
Well, it surely means that I don't know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about, I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune,
But I hear the voices say

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more no!

Carry on,
You will always remember
Carry on,
Nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you

Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry,
Don't you cry no more,

No more!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Look at my little baby ;A; 

I just

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Sacra was born healthy at Imperial Dead Ranch to his mum Animo, and was quite the lively foal, though he was always good to his mum. He was calm with the handlers, but did take a little while to learn new things, for he was very timid at a young age. The Ranch new he would be perfect for a leisure horse, or maybe even a barn that was just getting it's feet, and decided to sell him to good owners. The couple seemed almost perfect...too perfect. once they got Sacra to their "barn" he was practically tortured. They wanted to use him for cart pulling races..underground ones where the winnings where higher as well as the weight. He was trained to an inch of his life, and was thrown into different competitions, forced to wear the ill-fitting tack and pull weights far too heavy for any horse. The owners clipped his manes to the skin, and never let them grow out again. When a band of gypsies saw the competitions, they rescued Sacra, and saved his life. He still lives with them today, and has his old spirit, though he is still very wary of new people.

ignore my sucky writing x.x

art + Sacra (c) Me~

Reference (c) fav.me/d32ty8x *ElaineSeleneStock