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Staring at a cross of splintered wood
My sins washed away through Christâs own blood
All my blessings gone, though my mind it wanders on
Going home in my memoryâ¦.
Between the years and the miles
I am broken and down
Bless me father, where do I begin
On my hands and my knees,
I go crawling back home,
To find absolution within
Eighteen years old, but not yet a man
With misplaced ideologies
Recognizing only God as my equal
Left home and disgraced my family
With a dream in my head and a restless soul
Sensing I would soon be free
I took to heart my granddads fables
They made up the core of my identity
For eight long years I tramped through the fallout
Of nuclear society
The underclass
Forgotten mass in a nation of revelry
Fare thee well, my old dear friend
The road goes ever on, but I am going home
Back to where it all began
In a filthy rundown tenement
I set out to spread Godâs name
I thought the word would start the fire
And my voice would fan the flame
But I soon learned that in this hopelessness
A great many things went unsaid
My first lesson was that good intentions
Arenât gonna keep you warm and fed
With no recourse I took a job at the packing house
No one who I could edify
As my dreams like leaves in autumn
Disappeared before my eyes