I navigate with my own GPS,
Following the intuition that
Only leads me off cliffs
And into trenches—Lord,
Will You take the wheel?
My foot is cramping on the
Pedal, my eyes are dozing,
And a group of Sagging
Pants smashed through my
Dashboard, gun in hand,
As I drove through an area
That I thought was good—
Take the wheel, Lord,
You see the flaws in my
Judgement--& I see that
There are no shortcuts
To Your plan.