Night times, I find peace
on the lips of a bottle.
Other times, in God's word.
I do not ask for much,
happiness is what I seek.
A fool for society once,
for if the escape route was
in the bosom of women,
or in the ecstasy of the night,
I would have known peace.
Once a fool for church too,
for if the preacher's sermon
led me not into confusion
or gave me salvation,
I would know elation.
Like a nomad, I journey forever
to where the pasture is greener;
but there exists no love for a wanderer,
after all I am now an outcast.
Alas, we are not different,
but I continue to scour and settle not,
unlike the church and society.
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