Turbatus

I guide my ship through the fog of confusion
having not a clue where I'm going or where I've come from.
I hear people dying, people screaming, people crying,
and I fear the presence of what I've lost for so long: the sun.

My ship's battle-scarred, held together by will,
it's rough-hewn, just the simple basics, no unnecessary frill.
It's all I have, all I need, and all I live for...
which means once it's sunk, my fate is sealed.

I sail towards a vague, shining light,
it's visible from the brightest of days to the darkest of nights,
under it me, a lonely sailor, in an ocean of heartbreak.
I long for solid, unmoving ground,
to reverse my frown with lush landscapes.
This is why what I fear the most is losing my sight.

The undermining tones that punctuate my life
are nothing but a weapon, a cold, steel knife.
It's doubtful, it's pessimistic, it's evil.
It stabs me, I've lost the battle, but I will still win the fight.

I share this ship with not a human soul,
there's no understanding persons to make this voyage less dull.
I am as a rock...
not feeling, not caring, just existing, only this without a soul.

Not until I reach the Harbor of Fright.

As my vessel parts dark, muddy water,
I send up a lonely prayer, because I'm so very cold.
If only the fog parted, and the sun burned a little hotter,
maybe then I could see the shoreline,
maybe then I could take charge of this ship that's rightfully mine,
but right now, I sail with the warm, bright light
the belongs to the one, true divine.

Under the guidance of this light,
my ship strikes land, and I rejoice in delight.
I can finally start a new life,
it seems like true happiness is almost in sight.

I build myself a cabin, not bad if I do say so myself,
I discover gold nearby, so now I have wealth.
I've got a great life, now...
I thank God for my good fortune and health.

But I long for someone to be with,
it's a terminally heavy loneliness,
it's killing me, killing me, killing me,
but I can't complain, I found land, I got my wish.

I'm not going anywhere,
the ship sunk immediately after I got here,
I'm here for good, and I'm ever so thankful for that.
So really, what is there but God to fear?

God, please hear me when I say this:
I'm incredibly blessed, I'm grateful for my gifts.
As much as I hate it,
I feel like these gifts are just metallic paint on a Ford Pinto...
It looks amazing, it feels amazing, and it's something to be proud of.
But under the paint, the mechanically flawed electrics
will one day go "boom".

So, please God, I have a terminal illness,
it's called confusion, loneliness, and sadness.
A wicked mixture of radioactive Uraniums
that, when put together, are just plain dangerous.

You know what's in my heart...
you've known me from the start.
I don't know how this will all work out, God,
but I trust you.

Please forgive me,
please protect me,
and please help me, God, please.
In Jesus' name I pray, God...

Amen.