Has the world gone mad or I mad at world?
Two questions one answer what can be done?
Each day that passes leaves me more churled
Sour countenance as I view dipping sun
Being just one man of most meager means
I’ve no stage to speak, mere face in the crowd
One weary anguished soul in old blue jeans
I oft’ have dream of a power endowed
To thee avaricious I woulds’t short change
Upon blind and deaf to see and to hear
To infirmed and oppressed within my range
Alleviate pain restore life, quash fear
Doth God have such sway, oh, where can he be?
I’m mortal man, yet I wish I were he
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