Playing The Poor Son Of Arich King

PLAYING THE POOR SON OF A RICH KING
When nothing seems to go right
And life has never been so slight
When all hope fades like a beam
And breath has never been more slim
When friends seem to be of no help
But always as irritating as a kelp
When thoughts put you on a slippery slope
To scope things that kill hope
When you always fake a fine countenance
At a high cost of sustenance
And living in God's promises is as in a fool's paradise
Like a fool betting his life on a ship's merchandise
When consolation in the bible makes you like an aramean
Who with a fool's head came and went back with twain
When righteousness is like a paper chair
And sitting on it leaves you with no cheer
When God's word seem to rigid and ideal
Too spiritual and supernatural to be real
When God seems farthest from you
Never has he been nearer to you
When God has never been farther
He really has never been nearer