Lost man Part 3

If I was the falsely accused. I’d pay my bail; I’d walk in shoes made of sand.
I’d give up hope, I’d swim the land and walk the seas.
Can you believe?
That I’d fall down cliffs, tumble down hill sides, stumble of steps of honour, pride, and weakness.
And I’d stare.
Without a care.

As I took in all your features, without a stance, without a plan.
Don’t want to take it in from the bleaches, anymore, I’m not a fan.
Of siting by the sidelines, hoping on some game time and some luck on given chance.   
Such strategy seems so stimulated – so based on circumstance.

But as I gaze upon your eyes – you fail to understand.
That I’m a,
Lost man.
Lost man.
Please go on take my shaking hands.

Lost man.
Lost man.
Pushing buttons – giving orders – building dams.

Over creeks, that turn to streaming waterfalls. Churning rivers into lakes.
And it’s I realise it’s a mistake – to border off these hidden waters from you now.

But it’s too late.
I’m a lost man.
lost man.
Please shut the gate – in all your hate, I disguised myself for what I am.
’ll take my fate into beer bottles and cans.

But in that moment, something changed.
Something I’ll never forget.

You reached out to touch me.
You held my shaking hands.

“My man”.