You know what? No! What.
It hard to believe that
Stepping out on a whim,
The prodigal left Him.
My brother hid behind words,
Hiding the sky-high like clouds.
Rain clouds and summer’s morning due
Beneath the canopy of a chosen few.
Swallowed by the deep, horizon of a wondering mind.
Traditions makes non effect of any kind.
There are only Jews and Gentiles
except for prodigal’s mercy or lies.
Beneath the stairs where angels clime
There is a pillow of stone beneath my head.
I carry the words of my father’s breath,
Bethel oh Bethel, shelter my death.
Together we withstand the discomforts of shackles
Cause freedom is worth more than Shekels.
You know what? It’s logical the price of a prodigal, is worth all that.