It isn't that I live among holy men, But among men of means and contradiction. Their words are not written with a pen So their meaning is left open to interpretation.
It isn't that I don't have time to read, But my attention span seems so poor. There is much knowledge that I need, But wisdom and truth elude me even more.
It isn't that I live in a desert bare, But where there is plenty of everything so near. Where satisfaction seems hard to obtain, even rare, And words of comfort are not always clear.
It isn't that I speak in riddles three, But a story unfolds in lines of rhyme. Only in a few minds is the truth free. For most, it remains hidden in time.
Straight away a march to glory, But always concerned about the developing story. Dreams of mission seem to spin around; Pressing onward into the battleground.
Fighting hard battles secure a hold, But victory does not cure a heart cold. Obedience to the Word keeps one pure, A heart that is right, and one's step sure.
Inquiring questions shot down by friendly fire With recovery uncertain; trust soon expires. The wounded are bayoneted where they lay. No more embarrassing questions. O'Happy Day!
Others lead while a leader follows. The more the needs the more they borrow. Monuments get built, but not soul spaces. Reach deeper! Remove doubts traces.
Rewards uncertain. Sacrifice hurts. No one is paying attention or staying alert. A leader is exempt and excused. So what if the people are left a little confused?