Michael Woodhead


Written & Composed by Michael Woodhead
Copyright © 1971, 2019

I must go on
To the unknown realms of space
It is my will I must fulfill
I must not cry
For the dying human race
Is pleading still
I feel a chill
I touched the face of God
I tred on alien sod
I had to kill
It was no thrill

I don't look back
Lest my heart will rend inside
I must go on from Babylon
I hear the wails
Of the souls who tried to hide
They are all gone
So breaks the dawn
I touched the face of God
I wept where'er they trod
And now, there's none
Not even one

And now, it's through, nevermore will I return
To Earth, my home
Its city, Rome
For it is dead and the cities have to burn
So, on I roam
And write this tome
I touched the face of God
I op'd the golden pod
With sea afoam
I pen this poem

I touched the face of God
And tread the road rough-shod
No longer roam
I am come home