Daily we go through the motions
unable to check runaway emotions
substituting spice, pills and lotion
searching for peace with yet another notion

In the wee hours of darkest night
sometimes alarmed by slightest fright
with our inner being an awful sight
yet to another distraction we take flight

From Gods' Will in deliberate spite
we seek easier ways in times of despite
refusing to bring our will under subjection
not facing our ills - refusing correction

So into the dark night air we stray
but from conviction never get away
so we turn once again to bottle or pill
screaming as His Spirit woos us still

But one day His Love will be gone
silenced by deaths cold dark song
against our will we'll move right along
to face up, fess up in massive throngs

We'll meet Him face to face
the One Who extended such Grace
only then as Judge, He won't embrace
He'll merely point to that hot awful place

For those an unspeakable harsh song
weeping and wailing eternally long
but for the sainted the prize will be sweet
forever to dance on Golden Streets