I reach out . . . sadlessly
I preach out . . . incessantly

when time comes asking who ? . . .
what are you ?
it will catch you grasping

I took the answer book
Maybe eleven years of age
Put it in my desk
Forgot it in all it's page

Then the squirrel I shot
with my B-B gun through it's ears
It fell dead and in my regret
flooded into a sea of tears

Life and death swirls around me
My eyes leaving me with no surprise
Tomorrow is heaped upon me
All yesterdays materialized

The answer book was found
I pleaded guilty without a sound
Tried , convicted , sentenced
To no crime was I winched

I buried the squirrel
Said a prayer asking forgiveness
For all my wicked sins

That life is so sacred
That without some kind of repentance
I would never be allowed to win .

Jesus came to me saying , " It's all right , I forgive you of your sins."

Even under forgiveness
I felt little of a relief

God said to me ," My son has spoken , it is
one of belief ."

I see the squirrel
Sitting in that tree
One moment alive , breathing , free

My choice to make
My grace to be
I pulled the trigger forever changing me

I reach out . . . endlessly
I preach out . . . repentively

When time comes asking who ?
Then I know what I am