~ An Hour With You~

 



The Clock Is Ticking


On the wings of a butterfly, will you fly me away?
Back home to you, where I promise Iíll stay.
I know it is hard, but please understand,
I canít go on living, upon this cold land.

Something is wrong here, somethingís not right.
I walk past the people, and they seem very trite.
Yet they laugh, and they whisper,
With their eyes of the night,
Theyíll continue to live, never seeing the light.

What is it they see? I feel somewhat defaced.
That they canít look upon me, with a smile on their face.
Whatís wrong with me, Father, that I feel so displaced?
Why do they think, that Iím such a disgrace?

What can I do, Lord, to stop all this pain?
It was never my choice to walk down this lane.
I did not choose, you chose it for me.
You sent me down here, to help ease their pain.

But the looks on their faces, as they look down upon me.
Tell me I am unwanted, as they cease to see,
I hold the answers; I am the key.

Iíve never felt right; Iím still not accepted,
I held my hand out, but it was only rejected.
Forever they are lost, they go unprotected.

As I watch them walk past, that man on the street,
Not looking to see, he doesnít have feet.
He holds out his cup, as I hear him say, Ēplease,Ē
But they try to avoid him, as though heís diseased.

The children seem lost, with their looks of despair,
Where are their parents? Why donít they care?
The children left crying, their hearts open and bare.
I gather them up, and we kneel down in prayer.

Father, why did you send me, to feel all this pain?
Thereís nothing I can do, thereís too much disdain.
Soon theyíll be running, while they cry out in fear,
The clock is now ticking, their time coming, is near.

Septemberrose
©
March 2004
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Art used with permission of
Isaura Simon

Music: "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word"

Sequenced By Jack Hall
Used With Permission



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