The faces.

Faces surround me,
Blurs in the distance.
And if I look at them for too long
I second guess my next paces.
I trip, I fall.

Now I have a wounded knee,
The blood quickly appears, it glistens.
I push myself up, I know I'm strong,
I look away from those faces.
Why did I look to them at all?

I look ahead with the knowledge I'm free,
Those faces are not-- they're blocked in by fences.
They shake their heads and say I'm wrong
But who are they? Have they been to the places,
Those places, so well, I can recall?

If they had, maybe then they'd see,
Maybe they'd shed their obstructed lenses
And realize that their criticisms don't belong.
Mistake after mistake, He always effaces.
While I desperately try to fulfill my call...

I will pay no attention to the faces.