Well, cut my wings, break me down; my faith is gone, I’ve lost my crown. Am I alive or is this a dream? Cause the illusions are breaking at the seams.

What am I following, why am I bothering? I fell a victim to the trick and now I’m sick of all of it, and all I got is this box of strings. Am I really bringing anything?

Why do I question love when it burns so deep inside my chest? Why do I live in fear when I always know I’m under His blanket?

Are you a saint or just a man in a blanket? Can you please fess up because I can’t take it. I love you too much for it to be a lie. Just give me proof, say the news; either way I’ll cry and cry. If it’s all a hoax, I’ll die, and if you’re telling the truth I’ll fly. Well, all I want to do is just stay in your holy grace, let you wash me down, Lord and let you paint my face.

I feed people, serve people, take them to the holy steeples where the rascals manufacture love to show us that we’re equal. Constellations station meditation for the dying. Kiss your wish to make it bliss, and give it to the crying.

Children can’t find shelter, so they retreat to the drugs. Give out both your hands, man, and swallow them with love. The clock is ticking way too fast. Triggers are pulled and guns blast while the mothers take their children to the kindergarten class.

Well I’m under the blanket. We’re gonna make it to that holy place where we are united without violence. Every single race.