Wild fare
I come from wiry stock
Mine is a wandering tribe
Moving always toward a Land
And a promise
The flocks are gone, now, and tents--who lives in them?
For so long, I have been hostage, here
Like a creature in a side show
Learning to live on city fodder
Serving under the furtive eyes of our guardians
But my eyes I cast furtively to the Promised Land
Where the grass rolls under the wind like the dark sea
Where the lush greens thrive under no hand but the the hand of God
Ah!
How I look for my escape!
Once rescued, I will shake off the chains of mankind like cobwebs
Man!
He is a rebel king
Separating himself from life
And from God
And now, holding the the whole world hostage
What will you do with your hostage, rebel king?
Who will pay your ransom? Where will you go then?
Where do you think you will live?
Don’t you remember, my people?
We are a wandering tribe
Strangers and pilgrims
Looking for a way to get to the Land
To escape to the fields heavy with storm
Where the they thrive under no hand but the hand of God
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