I knew a guy named Josh once.
We don’t really talk much anymore.
He came from a broken home,
All because his mom had walked in on his dad with his pants across the floor
He wished she’da never gone through that door,
But now there’s not much left for him to do Anymore.
He got a job bagging groceries,
a cheap job for a cheap and lonely life.
I’m not really sure what he was looking for,
But money was always tight,
So he held up the store he worked at with the knife his dad had given him the night he walked out on his wife.
That’s his life….
But can you blame him?
There was a once a degree
I was looking for
A plan for my life
With which for them
To sweep me up and with me wipe the floor.
I wanted to write
“Be Creative”, be myself.
But when the floor was done
They put me down and hid
Me back upon the shelf.
I am myself?
Then we read a great poem
That I learned for Mr. O
“Selves, goes itself, myself it speaks and spells”
Well now the bells ain’t bellowing,
No longer echoing their sweetened fairy tales
And we are left alone to delve
Because apparently, what I do is me.
But the last thing I want to do is leave you all without a hope,
Cuz God knows
the only thing that keeps us from splitting to dope and political rope-a-dope
Is the not the pope, but the man who gives the pope his hope.
He was hung on a tree for you and me
BY you and me.
We look so hard but we can’t see
That what I do is me,
Cuz that’s not the truth and the truth will set you free.
You can be who you wanna be
But the life you choose
Is narrated by the voice you choose to heed,
An idea planted in you as if a little seed
And as the harvest comes,
the sower comes to reap
and heap upon your hopeless souls
the hope of eternity.
I’m not gonna tell you who to be.
In fact, the only thing I can do is plead that you can see as much as me;
That YOUR life matters just as much to you as it does to HE
Who sits on high and loves the hell outta you and me.