Текст: Matthew West. History. The Last Ones.

My friend Taylor she's an angel
Ten years old and beautiful
She's a living, breathing miracle
And she proves it everyday
'Cause the odds were stacked against her from the day that she arrived here
And the doctors told her mom and dad she'd always be that way
And I confess when I first met her
I was thinking life's not fair
But then she wrapped her arms around my neck
And it all became so clear

God bless the last ones

One day Taylor sent me a picture from her Special Olympics race
And I could tell just by the looks of it she was coming in last place
But she crossed that finish line with a smile upon her face as if to say

God bless the last ones

Maybe the last ones are the lucky ones
The ones who got this whole thing figured out
'Cause when they go looking for something beautiful
They start looking from the inside out

On our way into the restaurant we passed a homeless man
He was half drunk and half asleep with a paper cup in his hand
And I confess when I first saw him I was thinking life's not fair
But then Taylor reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck
And it all became so clear

God bless the last ones

I wish we could all be the lucky ones
The ones who've got this whole thing figured out
Maybe the next time we go looking for beautiful we'll try looking from the inside out

God bless the last ones