My way is not the only way, but it is adequate.
My way is not the only way, however, it is just me.
My way is not perfect, from a distance perhaps.
My way is not a bad one.
My way is so sincere.
It should be refreshing to find one who is willing to stand;
in the fire, in the wind, bearing up one whose soul has submitted.

My Way


My way is not the only way, but it is adequate, I am told.
To stand up for what is fair, what is right, and bold.
My way is not the only way, however, it is just me,
that is always sinking low, and whispering a prayer on bended knees.

My way is not perfect, from a distance perhaps.
But I am human also, and can have a relapse.
Figuring what is “the right thing”, “the best thing”, “the tone”,
that will be most pleasing, to one so alone.

My way is not a bad one; it is not meant to be.
But thought somehow gets confused as to sing in which key?
To make it all right, and be courteous and serene, is not necessarily the way that I mean,
to get my point across before it is tossed on it’s bean.

My way is so sincere, even though presented with clatter.
The point is I care, and that is all that should matter.
In a world full of hate and ambiguous commitments,it should be refreshing to find one who is willing to stand,
in the fire, in the wind, bearing up one whose soul has submitted.