It was simple Being young and bold Falling in line With all you were told I never tried To believe anything less Than to always kneel But never confess Looking for reasons Where to begin Left with questions I would not ask again Hidden in an attic No one would view Boxes taped and marked ‘Pictures from Vacation-1962’ It was simple As a child to find The goal of praying Was to never look behind It was a given Worship was required To gather the riches The false gods desired Searching the gospel Relying on faith Looking for keys To unlock the holy gate The gates of innocence The gates long unknown The keys to the kingdom Revealing the throne It was simple A betrayal of trust The truth boxed and labeled In the corner attic dust I remember asking What to seek and where to search Questions quickly dismissed On the silent ride to church There will come a day Searching the attic is overdue Opening those boxes marked ‘Pictures from Vacation-1962’ Into the darkness and dust No one could find Into the places Where keys are left behind It was simple To close the doors To an attic or a cellar Where the truth was stored It was simple But it was mostly bluff Boxes in the attic When belief was not enough
