Michael Woodhead


Written & Composed by Michael Woodhead
Copyright © 1971, 2019

Here stand I, naked
Upon burning sands
I run grains of water
Through dry, parched hands
The sun beats upon me
The world seems to turn
And I can't make out
What I'm trying to learn

Here stand I, naked
I drop to my knees
The sands of this desert
Are dead to my pleas
My blood rushes through me
Is drained from my brain
And I long for water
Perchance even rain

Here stand I, naked
My time is now done
I've tried to reckon
But Death's only won
My thoughts are so jumbled
I fall on my face
And here die I, now
In this sanctified place