I count the hours: you count the days. Together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play. Walk dusty miles. And I ride that train on a first class ticket, just to be with you again.
Picking up tired feet. Back from a far horizon. Cleaned up and brushed down. Dressed to look the part. Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses: To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart.
Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone - Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone. But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin. Lightyour guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.
