Skin like dust; feet like lead,
I've lost the rhythm in my head;
Falling into mindless dread;
Feeling like the living dead.
Sleep alone in another's bed,
Engaged to one, to the other wed;
Finding out that this path has led
Straight to the place where He hung and bled.
Tired of always being fed
Empty calories in lieu of bread;
Following guides who were misled
By flashing signs that they misread,
And who, faced with danger, turned and fled
Leaving you alone to tread
The long road back to the homestead.
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