The Tables Have Turned

Jesus and the Woman at the Well

Well, my, my, I see that the tables have turned.

A bitter pill to swallow, I bet it burned.

To have to turn to me requesting aid,

For I'm nothing, an outcast, the lowest grade.

I know your kind looks down on me with disdain.

You never see me. You do not know my pain.

Now you are thirsty and have nothing to drink,

You Sir, are desperate. You are on the brink,

Of being brought so low in degradation,

Being forced to ask much below your station.

Done with broken promises uttered from lips,

I came here now avoiding relationships.

Sick of discovering it's not as it seems.

I've given up on these jagged, shattered dreams.

The times I've been let down have left me jaded.

All joy and hopefulness have long since faded.

I have developed thorns. I am so prickly.

I will put you in your place rather quickly.

Common pleasantries I can't manufacture.

I am so very weary. I am fractured.

Telling truth from the lies is so hard to sift.

I'm too blind to see you are God's Perfect Gift.

It's safe to assume that you are like the rest.

That you don't condemn, I never would have guessed.

Tell me more of this gift God is giving.

What do you mean there's water that's living?

I know the Messiah will tell us all things.

The truth you speak bubbles within me, it springs.

Worship is not found in a place, but our soul.

God fill me with your water. Come make me whole.