The pace of life is mournful I stumble and I fall ,
like a new born baby ,
no one hears my call. .
I cry out at night to those who think me dead ,
and listen to those voices I hear laughing in my head .
Though it might not be audible the laughter is just as real ,
as those that come in the dead of night ,
are of those of us who steal .

The pace of life is frightening,
the poet heals my soul,
like Christ a long lost friend I knew a long time ago .
And O the pace at which my friends travel ,
have left me alone on this weary road ,
when everyone has travelled ,
they left their heavy load .

My pace of life. Is now steady
pray lead me along the shore ,
where ever he might take me ,
however fleeting life might be .
A life well travelled passing ruins on my way ,
ahead of me might lay castles or palaces of clay ?

Or even if they are humble shacks or caves where rock cliffs fall ,
at least you are right beside me ,
though you are not Lord of all !
For my heart is still the same as when I first met you ,
I pray one day you might change it ,
so I can follow you .