I have a wife,
And together we live,
In a very small room.
Yesterday she lost,
Her car broke down,
And now I ride a bicycle.
You say, I told you so,
You were much to young to get married.
But I say, Your way too old,
And when'd you stop living anyway?
As I ride my bike,
With my safety helmet on,
And white tennis shoes,
They stare at me,
But I see through new eyes,
Or maybe you just don't remember
This place that I'm supposed to be,
Is not the chair in front of a dest in front of a mirror.
Can't you see that it's not here or there, or anywhere.
But in speaking distance with God
And where can you go that's too far?
Because I can worship him anywhere.