High-tech Care with Old-fashioned Values

Same Kind of Different

I saw him one Sunday
Just over the tracks
And I think it was Wednesday
By the dumpster out back
There were scars on his face
And hard pain in those eyes
And I wondered what he saw in mine.

There are scars in some places
The whole world can see
And the smiles on our faces
Hide those underneath
And I knew in that instant
When his eyes met with mine
He's the same kind of different like me.

I thought I would find him
Pull him out of his pain
That the grace of my presence
Would wash o'er him like rain
But the truth of the story
when time passed away
Was that I was the one who had gained

Some call him a prophet
Proclaiming the end
I call him my brother
My truth-telling friend
He would say of himself
In that voice all his own
Well, I'm just trying to find my way home.