Come For Me

Twenty years in the jungle has taken its toll on me.
I’m not the same man I use to be.
But one thing’s consistent…. I long to be free.
Please, Mr. President, come for me.

The scars of my torture will never go away.
I’m fifty pounds lighter.  My hair is now gray.
But their shackles can’t chain the freedom in me.
Please, lawmakers, come for me.

If my family believed there’s a chance I’ll survived,
They’d fight to their deaths to prove I’m alive.
I last saw my son when he was just three.
Please, lovin family, come for me.

Some captors say you don’t know that I’m here.
That I’m doomed to this prison year after year.
God Bless America, land of the free.
Please, friends and parishioners, come  for me.

Other captors say you know that I’m here.
But refuse to accept the evidence so clear.
Will some caring citizens hear my plea?
Please, fellow countrymen, come for me.

I’ll have faith in my country ‘till my dying day.
I’ll never believe you could leave me this way.
My country ‘tis of thee…
Please, please America, come for me!

LeAnn Thieman
Copyright June 2, 1987
Fort Collins, CO