The Straight & The Winding Way
Wolves stalk the field while the sheep graze the valley.
Roles play out so simply, they both know the rules of the game.
They can get by with the time honored rights handed down from on high.
It's a plague of patience.
Caught between a stone pressed against fractured bone,
where we ought to heed solutions that spark hesitations which taught.
Wicked with worry, the lamb in a hurry gets caught.
Make towards the hills.
Flee for your lives.
Pay rapt attention and greet your demise.
Blood on the air meets blood on the ground, the fray opens wide with the chance we have found.
Teeth sink in flesh, good fortune to drink the blessings we won, and the prizes we keep.
Hurry too hard end up alone, how precious the seconds it takes to become lost.
(Can you hear the slaughter dear? The sound so close yet so unclear.)
Just because we steal points in time, we feel we can circumvent gained position.
How precious the seconds it takes to become found.