I Make My Bed

Darkness slowly vanquishes day Once a noon with rays of brilliance now turns into a Stygian night On my face are the wrinkles of time On my flesh are tattoos of hardship Eyes with the blurriness of age Its time, its time to go home The sweet prepared paradise Made by the hands of my Father I'm sad to leave you my love Though you've served no perfect joy but I can't escape natures wrath I will miss your morning dews I will miss your bright sunshine Your red roses and blue violets I will miss your festivals Your beautiful sons and daughters And meals of great sumptuousness Its hard to leave you I must confess Tears running down my face like a cheetah's tribal mark I make my bed to lie and rest Though willing is the spirit but weak is the wrinkled flesh I'm close to my destination And no amount of emotion can take me back or keep me longer When I peep through my windows I can see the picture of home Where life is but a bunch of joy For now you can weep and wail But we shall meet someday where you will never weep again