Where will listening lead me?
Where will the fuel lead me?
When will the gasline break?
When will I learn to ache instead
Of want, and burn instead of earn,
And take your place at the seat of
Intercession, at the intersection,
In the seated places of resurrection—
Dead me is a no good me, a no good
Me needs a voice to lead me, needs
Words to live by, needs an alibi to
Try on for size and shape and
All kinds of colors bright and
Shining white—invasion,
Russian sun weighing heavy
Upon us, the cops are us,
The bust is on us, breaking and
Entering, God judging man through
Man, with man, with his every intention
To get it right, to sit real tight,
To lock it away, out of mind,
God, not out of sight
Where will the road lead me,
Where will the path begin,
When the wrath takes me
Out of this place, this place
Called comfort, called homely,
Called a little less lonely,
Comforts must break,
Listening creates the ache
Needed to survive, Your voice
Is my choice, sure and true,
Holy and New, all that I am
Comes through You