They
have all gone astray
For them is wasted toil.
Who will show them the way ?
Around the sunken bay.
They eat their bones, their spoil.
They have all gone astray.
When we asked them to pray
their answers make us boil.
Who will show them the way?
Their lives are tales of grey
for lack of bread and oil.
They have all gone astray.
They daily wayside stray
and will not work or toil.
Who will show them the way?
They are moths, coloured gray
Daylight dawns, they recoil.
They have all gone astray
Who will show them the way?
