When gone what will my days amount to?
I can be caring yet conceited
But always remained loyal and true,
I somehow ended up lonely and defeated.

I do not pray to a whimsical God,
When I sing I bow my head,
Stumble in a temple or church,
Cannot see the light, worship music instead.

Seems the thing I idolize,
The only solace I've found still innocent,
As I lose myself in the lyrics and bars,
Fear gives way to reassurance; heaven-sent.

In melodies shown the only safety I trust,
For notes and words will continue to resound,
Though miles away from the nearest pew
Headphones become an altar, sermon written in song's sound.