This isn't at all what I'd planned.
I took a wrong turn, somehow, some way,
And ended up in this wasteland.
At the start of this journey, I wanted to stop.
I didn't even want to try.
If I couldn't take the path of my choice,
I thought I would rather die.
I have ripped through the thickets and thorns.
I've slogged thrugh the mud and the mire.
I've crossed the valley, climbed the hill,
Crossed that bridge and walked through fire.
And just when I thought my journey would end,
And I open a whole new door,
I say, "Wait a minute...I know this place.
I've been here before."
So I'm ripping and crossing and climbing again,
But perhaps the hill's not as steep.
And tho I sludge along again,
The mire may not be as deep.
And this time, my vision's a little more clear.
I see things I missed last time through.
Flowers are growing right here in the mud,
And the sky's gone from gray to blue.
It's still not the road I wanted to take.
But it's a journey I can survive.
And with each new effort, I realize
I'm glad to be alive.
