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HIRE THIS WRITER
You invite me toward green pastures
lush with pillows of clover and grain
To rest my soul that I may behold
A respite of my earthly pain
But my lust was for the masses
Where fame and fortune reside
No pastures green or blessing it seemed
Could force this thirst to subside
In an instant the cheers diminished
And the ovations turned to dissent
And I began to dream of pastures green
Where my soul was light and content
Your pastures are now my shelter
And never again will it be
That acclaim or rings or earthly things
should wrestle my spirit from thee
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This is so beautiful!
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