I stopped along the way,
To ask a stranger grey,
For directions to the day,
When I could finally say,
Who I am.
And I got lost in the asking.
The roads on which I ran,
Were carved out by another man,
The detour another distraction,
From the milestones of the land,
Guided by a controlling hand,
Losing time like falling sand,
The rock on which I stand,
Was crumbling all along.
And I got lost in the asking.
They told me it was a sin,
To search for truth within,
They told me to be like them,
And so my soul went in,
To the production line,
Of Church
And state.
And I got lost in the asking.
There is a hill,
Where saviours still,
Welcome thieves with dying will,
No conditions to fulfil,
Outstretched arms appeal,
Come in, Come in,
Just as you are,
However you feel,
Just as you will.
Oh Father,
I got lost in the asking.
As I am, with but one plea,
That thy blood was shed for me.
I just thank you father,
For making me,
Me.
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