|
A man walked over, where I sat.
I suppose he wanted to chat.
He sat in the chair next to me,
As I sat there, sipping my tea.
“Can I help?” he asked, and he grinned.
“You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”
“No, Sir,” I said, “Can’t help today.
She’s not lost. I turned her away.”
Sometimes I wish to God I knew
What makes me do the things I do.
What makes me say the things I say?
What makes me like that, anyway?
The man was old, and he looked rough.
His hands were battered, scarred, and tough.
I looked at him, trying to see
What this old man wanted from me.
His head was scarred, under his hair,
But his eyes told me that he would care.
I knew when I looked in his eyes
He’d seen a lot, and he was wise.
Sometimes I wish to God I knew
What makes me do the things I do.
What makes me say the things I say?
What makes me like that, anyway?
“Why do I wish for love to stay,
Then turn, and let it get away?
What makes anyone act that way?”
And I looked at him, old and gray,
Looking for the answers I seek.
He smiled, and then, began to speak.
“Son, I said it once, and for all,
Pride surely goes before a fall.”
Sometimes I wish to God I knew
What makes me do the things I do.
What makes me say the things I say?
What makes me like that, anyway?
“You wish to God that you could know,
But long ago He told you so.
My son, I hope I’ve set you straight.
I’d like to stay, but I can’t wait.”
As he stood up, I shook his hand.
“Sir, I believe I understand.”
“If you understand, then believe.
There is much more you will receive.”
Sometimes I wish to God I knew
What makes me do the things I do.
What makes me say the things I say?
What makes me like that, anyway?
Since he has gone, I can’t forget
What I heard. I remember yet.
“If you’ll be honest from the start,
Truth won’t follow your broken heart.
Pride will fall. Let truth build you up,
So you won’t drink this bitter cup.”
Who was the man, who shook my hand?
I think He lives in Glory Land.
~Author~
Glen Pysell
Copyright 1984
The midi you are listening to is......"Because He Lives"
Please... Do not copy or reproduce without written permission from the author.
|
