Hevel, Hevel
Meaningless.
Meaningless.
Meaningless.
This tempest is swirling,
sucking the life out of me.
Meaningless
the chasing of the dollar,
the worship of the green Benjamin.
The dusty roads of Mexico led me to asking:
What’s the point of it all?
Hevel, hevel.
Vapor, a whisp.
This straw will be burnt up.
Yet the flames burn, I will turn
repenting from my meaningless ways,
consenting to the Master, avoiding disaster.
Ashes to ashes; sixteen, my life undefined,
only to find that the answer is the cross.
Oh, wandering mine in the fog of despair,
my soul bogged down in combating this nihilism.
Mercy is there.
Through vapors and ashes a glimmer does shine;
the cross breaks the void,
His promise is mine.
Meaningless no more as my soul learns to soar.