Four walls of cinder,
form the center,
of my four square.
A cornerstone for a locker,
to my anywhere.
And though I've traveled far around,
the bedpost in that room;
I can shake not the
forsaken to my womb.
Althought it was
forescore and twenty;
and a moon or two ago,
the trouble is
when I hear "let-go!"
Now Jesus He never left me,
I know this to be true!
But my reasonings,
are the dicker,
and my memories the blue.
Gazing in now,
I can see my own trance;
For he is a man now
and that is recompense!