I’ve been locked inside my head since yesterday.
Looking, seeking, searching, where’s the source of all this pain?
And don’t you tell me I’m wasting my time, you put me here.
Mr. Demanding, fingers pointing, seconds counting.

I’ve found a bunch of stuff, but I’m pretty sure I’m at roots.
See, these things that make me me are things you don’t wanna see.
I see who I am, you see wretchedness and mercy pleading,
“Don’t change, don’t change me, I thought you loved me.”

Lop the leg that limps before his limbs all limit!
Chop the branch that bows beneath its weight.
Stop and stop, yeah, stop and take a minute.
Check the season, why’s the tree so laden?

Oh whoops, whoops, backpedal fast!
This one’s untouchable, heart like a mast.
I’ve been Fixed already, are your hands dirty?
Wipe my blood on your thighs, jeans like a napkin.

Man, my wounds are more than Dorito dust
For you to buff on your knee in the periphery.
If I’m yours, then draw on my reins like you mean it,
But if I’m His, you’re elbow deep in holiness.

Washed, washed, washed clean, you can’t tarnish me.
Hope, hope, hope, I’m not stuck like this forever.
But to suggest all this is just a weight on my chest,
Take a lame man’s crutch, wag your finger at his best.

So just stop, have mercy.
I’m more than your pet heresy.
These tears I bleed are real.
Like whatever’s making you seethe.

You cut to the bone prophets and servants of God,
And you serve their flesh to yourself still warm.
So rub me raw and see if I don’t chafe,
This is your religion and I am your scar.


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