Packed my suitcase,
grabbed a bag,
donned my coat,
said "goodbye,"
—you'd have never
heard a word.
Hit the doorway,
met with God,
told Him "Sorry,"
grabbed the knob
—wish I'd never
felt the tug.
At the threshold,
eyes affixed,
screamin' gut
(wouldn't quit),
—He would never
let me go.
Hand was shakin',
head had dipped,
feet had turned,
heart was ripped,
—but I had to
take a step.
You would never,
I had never,
He would never,
—so I didn't.
So I didn't.
