The Black Sheep Tale

This is about a metaphor... paraphrased... some allegories how I came to know the grace... a symbolic picture of shearing of my wools... and how the game got new rules... I`m abandoned, hurt and sore My skin is ripped by the cutting thorns I`m everybody`s cheap laughing stock A spitting cup, just listen how they mock My flock scattered, fell on the rocks Shocked, shattered, fold`s door locked Is there justice for a poor For a lowly, for a whore Who`s there to... search for the lost Bind up the injured Who`s there to... Strengthen the weak Destroy the strong and sleek I try to understand what freedom is Surely it`s something far from this I`m longing for a warm embrace Erase the ache in a healing place