I remember the days of old
When I was young and not bold
Where destiny was a mans choice.
I never heard my fathers’ voice
Calling my name in his chants
Of celestial-worship and dance.
I was young and not bold
To know that you may be old
And not know I should have
Called your name as a key
To my celestial dance.
A prophetic spiritual chance;
More like an apostolic Calvary -
To save you from life’s’ mortuary.
I’ve been marshalling out your
Name-like a spiritual horoscope you’re.
And as you read this prayer of mine,
When you become young and now bold.
That destiny is a mans choice
But, you heard your fathers voice.