He told me when he was young and spry,
that life was a destination,
so he let the days fly by.
He now tells me, while forgetful and old,
that I shouldn't have listened to him.
"I was a fool not to take it slow."
Well today I'm standing somewhere in between,
perched on a totem pole,
tell me which way should I lean?
After all that's all I've ever done
was ask you, oh great and wise one.
Should I walk? Should I talk?
Should I do this? Should I do that?
Well gee, I can't hardly take a breath
to simply hang up my hat.
In the words of the great Toby Keith, "What about me?"
If all I ever I do is take advice how will I ever achieve true victory?
I shall leave it all behind in search of a reflection,
so that I may see things uncensored
in light of our glorious sun.
Once found, I will scream with all my might,
"What must I do? Tell me, oh wise one!
Surely you if not anyone else must know
how to blow my worries away."
Nothing but stark silence followed
my great outpouring.
But that lack of sound was my therapy
where no voices lead me astray.
Nothing but the presence of God
in the still of morning.