If I go write when I am left by enemy or son
I cause no flesh wounds to myself as I try to get work done
It does take work to overcome a mound of woes and troubles
It does take works to undertake tasks tougher than some bubbles
There's many places I'd rather be since I'm so far from my home
Even though I've got a spot to place my piano and my comb
I don't want to climb up Brule's steep side or walk on broken Glass
Oh how I miss being part of Ezequiel DelFino's wondrous class!
I see no porcupines near me but have purple mountains* near
I do have books and writing tools and super hockey gear
Why did cruel lawyers allow Shane David H. to steal from me?
I've tried to keep Yehovah's laws and hate hypocrisy
I'm not a leper but I plan to show myself to father
For seven days in autumn's air when a slow pitch is no bother
I'll pitch a tent close to my parents and bring gifts to their gate
I'll speak with parents whom I love and count days 1 through 8
For a week they'll see I'm cured no longer captive to a sinful state of mind
I'll gladly leave the gifts I chose to give my parents behind
I'll sadly leave the dwelling place of the couple that loves me most
To face the tasks that can be done by me, not by a ghost
The books of Moses taught me that a person clean and holy
Is designed to present herself to witnesses for Yehovah's glory
Yom Teruah is only 7 months away and until then I shall plan
To study Scriptures and survive even though I'm not a man
Today I'll resist going to a place where I'm not respected and not loved
I'll travel out of my narrow gates not looking like a dove
I'll try to let myself go free rather than seeking to get carried
Like a dead bird who lived a perfect live and then carefully gets buried
The heart sounds of the gospel are as graceful as a bee
And as tender as a chickadee that's buried, never nailed to a tree
As for me and my household, my feathered friends think like
Atlanta Thrashers or Blackhawks who understand a strike
I strike piano keys near small amethyst mountains* in sight
I strike the memories from my mind and let then take a flight
I strike a golf ball with a stick but only when it's light
I strike a puck that will not cry if hit with all my might
I aim at pins to get an X not attached to any Xavier
I strike, I hike, I ride a bike though I don't look like a beautiful savior
I strike a flesh hook, known as a fork, into a carrot stick
I won't strike a match to ignite cigarettes which do make humans sick
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