The worn linen of a raiment hangs
From a chord stretched underneath
A midsummer blooming of blue;
Of a sky so miserably drawn.
Along a wagon\'s way I walk
In my clothes darned with care,
Local wives gossip away their chores
But as I pass, they quietly stare.
Their children dance among the petals
Veiled over an emerald lea,
To them a strolling stranger am I;
The ever-elusive anomaly.
An hour\'s length led through a day
And with all its tasks attended to,
Citizens run over a bridge
To the other side of the village.
As I bow my head to give my regards
They wish to spew and waste their breath,
Though their words burn like coal
I laugh away the consequence.
While I know my stride is queer
And my sword a rusted metal,
Our sentiments both are indeed sincere
So we must see our debts settled.
Throughout the entirety of my life
I\'ve followed a trail of pink and white,
Many people I knew had disagreed
But it\'s simply where I wished to be.
I rest my head on this softened earth
To be embellished by her shards,
Once again adorning a wretch
Not too close, but never far.
In poverty I found riches,
And in hesitation, I found faith.
They warned of a tree that bore no fruit,
But I sought it anyway.