All these years on this green earth not been worth my time.
My days spent on hard rock, loose women, cheap drugs and fine wine.
I’ve feel I’ve been lost for forty days. Don’t think I’ll find my way back.
Jesus, take the wheel. Go chauffeur my Cadillac.
Partied past the night, well into the dawn.
At some point I wondered, how much more I could go on.
Stumbled home, unwell, unclear, unsure I could take anymore.
Lift me up, Moses, I’m heading to the seventh floor.
It’s days like this I pray if I could just one day divine
an inkling of an instant of celestial design.
In my existential existence, little’s turned out fine.
Help me, Mary. I need the whole place clean by nine.
The world around is dissolute; pleasures everywhere.
Indulgences can just exhaust. How can one even care?
I need someone to guide me back, wherever I may roam.
Thank someone I have you. Jesus. Come on, take me home.