The Wasteland.

I'm all muddy.

I'm a mess.

I think I'm a little disoriented at best.

Where is my shirt?  Where are my sneakers?

Where's all my loose change that fell through the bleachers?

Where's my cellphone?  Where's my wallet?

I don't have my jeans.  And they're in my pocket.

Where are the people?  Where is the crowd?

It's gotten so quiet.  And there's no one around.

Maybe I'm drunk.

Maybe I'm high.

Maybe now I've become that guy.

That you see in the movies.

That you see in the street.

The one that's wondering when he'll next eat.

But I thought I lived here.

With my home and my friends.

I thought I loved everything all over again

But where did my home go?

Who took it down?

There's a hole where it used to be.

Just a hole in the ground.

And I sit here now thinking

"Where shall I go?"

"Who can I turn to?"

I really don't know.

But my home is now lost

The people are dead

The water is rising

I'm too tired to tread

I'll back away slowly

I won't leave a note

I'll find some salvation

I'll find me a boat

And sail away silently

From this wasted land

That God has bestowed me

A wasted young man.