A life is a terrible thing to waste-
As the sheep rush to and fro in such a haste-

To go nowhere of significance while avoiding spiritual growth-
Afraid to see and afraid to live, fearing both-

Their meek cowardly souls fear the pain required to grow in life-
Avoiding the required formula of God’s plan, avoiding all strife-

They will not allow their minds to venture outside the box-
Fearing to draw attention to themselves, to be seen as mox-

Trudging pitifully from existence to existence with out growth-
Of happiness they seek but never find as for happiness one must do as they are loath-

There is no growth, no happiness of soul without the pain they refuse to embrace-
They go through life without smelling the rose, they eat bland food without taste-

Terrified of any thing which they do not know they refuse to try the new-
They will not venture out till the sun is high least they encounter the wetness of the morning dew-

Before the sun sets they must be in their abodes with the door barred tight-
Shaking at each sound in the dark of night they pray for the new day with it’s light-

To drive away the unseen things which their imagination gives birth to unseen in the dark-
They tremble and moan listening and praying for the morning’s first warble of the lark-

Carefully avoiding all things which might shorten their misery of existence on this rock-
Existing many years but never living their souls tremble dreading the third crow of the cock-

When the era ends, when they stand before the Light when asked why they refused to live, refused God’s plan-
The wailing bowel loosing gnashing of sheep’s teeth when they are caste out to walk in eternal darkness of a sunless land.

The Ole Dog!