I'm so thirsty, I can feel it. Burning through the furthest corners of my soul. Deep desire, I can't describe this. Nameless urge that drives me somewhere.
What am I gonna be when I grow up?. How am I gonna make my mark in history?. And what are they gonna write about me when I'm gone?. These are the questions that shape the way I think about what matters.
Saw an old guy today. Staring long at a chess game. Looked like it was half-played. Then his tear splashed. Between the bishop and the king, oh. . He turned his face to mine.
He shares a room outside with a dozen other guys. And the only roof He knows is that sometimes starry sky. A tattered sleeping bag on a concrete slab is His bed.
Start with an infant world and an open sky. On a perfect day, breath from the mouth of God. Sends a quiver through His design of clay. And it is good, and it is good.