I wish to turn around and return (to her warmth and
laughter)
But this calling is strong, and denial is impossible
No measure of weight can justify what now presses into my chest

To the road, your freedom is awesome
But does it compare to the sweet embrace of my love?
Our convictions engraved by her marvelous hands
My ears are upon the brink of detonation
And the mud amongst the passage of my throat is drying to permanence

Harvest the crop of memories
To what's true, I offer thanks
I've found what's pure and I've found what's sweet
We are not barren