Job

He can't go home
The road is closed
He is shaken
To him unknown
The accuser's name
The hateful wager
The gates of Rome
Have been thrown open
But he lives alone
And his torment grows
He prays for peace
But is overturned
Each morning wakes
And still the burn
Drapes over him
The fiery drakes
Who stole from him
First his family
And then his throne
Who never asked
And yet received
Who never believed
And so was cast
Into a void
Where lingers last
That lonesome groan
That moaning vast
A crown of roses
And now he gets
The rubber hoses
And cement home.
What has this man
Ever, ever done?
His lot in life
Is a lot like lives
That others have known
So he cannot believe
The world says one thing
And does another
And men plunge their knives
Into the backs of each other
They trample their foes
And murder their brothers
And women deceive
And leave their lovers
And Lot's loss is in
His ashes conceived
To reave the guilty
Yet still he declines
And sorrowful retreats
From the battle lines
Where blood could have been,
Maybe should have been spilled
And enemies killed,
Now grass has grown over
And Job in pieces lies.