I confess the world’s a mess from the President down to the Continental Breakfast,
and I’m inclined to think I’m doing fine- until I open my mail.
I confess my life’s a mess but when I admit there’s room to get blessed, just a little bread and a little wine, Jesus never fails!
Refrain: (now meanwhile the inner child cries like a baby)
(the dysfunctional child blows away)
(now meanwhile without faith like a child, the mind and the heart will get carried away)
I want to be where the earthquake cannot shake me,
where the winds and the seas will not overtake me,
I want to see your hand reach out to the common man.
From now on I want to follow your plan.
I confess I read the press, but thank goodness it’s getting less and less.
Most of what I read today can be thrown in the garbage pail.
I confess I need to clean up this mess, where the tears roll down for the father in stress,
who needed to get some things off his chest, like someone’s been reading his mail.
I confess that the man whose depressed, turns out missing more than they leaked in the press,
I remember the day when he made his request from a van that looked like a jail.
I confess that he’s missing at best, the trace that he leaves is a one of sadness, and in the children he leaves behind, a lament he sent in the mail.
Bridge: Last seen driving alone, in the border town of Raton- he could go either way all I can tell you is pray.
I confess that our happiness, can’t be found in the desires of the flesh. The dead they don’t rise from the ashes unless, you open the mail.
Raton, New Mexico
