Write 'em in a Poem

In Austria, I am American.

In America, I'm the Austrian.

To my friends, I’m all about Jesus,

But my pastor doesn’t see this.

To the doers, I’m a thinker,

For me, the thinkers don’t quite do.

For the poets, I’m too cowboy,

But I ain’t cowboy through and through.

And in the dark, I’m just a sinner,

While at day, I play the saint.

Through nail on wood forgiven,

Lamb’s blood on me like paint.

The guitar is my companion,

But I won’t sing a stranger’s song.

My thoughts too hard to put in words,

So I just write ‘em in a poem.