Joints worn down, eyes glossed
My heart no longer full
Wandering, a man who’s lost
No pleasure pleases again
No fear motivates the battle
A thousand deaths like rain
I meander on like cattle
This is the hell I drank
Of vices small but rank
No virtues high or low
Tepid does my spirit flow
Always walking at a loss
But in my speech
I cannot reach
The path of the Savior’s cross
Always talking like a fool
And without grace
I cannot face
Hiding my eyes with wool
God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey
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