This is about a metaphor... paraphrased... some allegories
how I came to know the grace...
a symbolic picture of shearing of my wools...
and how the game got new rules...

I`m abandoned, hurt and sore
My skin is ripped by the cutting thorns
I`m everybody`s cheap laughing stock
A spitting cup, just listen how they mock
My flock scattered, fell on the rocks
Shocked, shattered, fold`s door locked
Is there justice for a poor
For a lowly, for a whore
Who`s there to...
search for the lost
Bind up the injured
Who`s there to...
Strengthen the weak
Destroy the strong and sleek

I try to understand what freedom is
Surely it`s something far from this
I`m longing for a warm embrace
Erase the ache in a healing place