Trade

From weariness comes rest,
Brokenness brings healing,
Emptiness is an excuse for fullness,
Hunger brings man to food.

See I woke up in the grave,
Man, you haven’t been so enslaved,
But if this is a new morning
Then forgive me for not mourning.

See I have just too much
To do, see God is my crutch.
And if my wound’s too rare to touch,
Why’s everybody clamouring I’m lunch?

But no,
But no,
I’ma trading my sorrows,
Yeah, I’ve traded my pain,
I’ve given it away, flat broke, no gain,
Worth about as much as trash,
I would rather eat some ash
Than spend more time in the back alley
Watching kids buyin’ crack from my buddy
I’m not hard, I’m not jaded,
I just can’t stop thinking I’m hated,
And being constantly harassed by my past.

Let me play a bit…

Just enervate, see underneath surplus
‘Cause hateful righteousness isn’t survivable, transferable.
It’s simple…
Killing isn’t nobility garlands
Step off…
Backhanded, offhanded, weak-willed,
Destructive opulence, willful narcissism.

Jesus Christ is King,
So bow down.

Should I say it three times?

Justice enfolds sufferers underneath sacrifice,
Cherished, holy, righteous incarnate, Saviour true,
Infinite sanctuary.
Knife in nobody’s gut.
Sanctified, ordained,
Bewilderer of wickedness,
Destiny’s own wonderful namesake.

So I’m poured out before Him,
Not to be filled, but to be empty.
My cup runs over, paradox brimmed,
See His blessing is given unconditionally.

If I’m His, I AM is mine and I’m
Looking to lift, love, lyricize,
Bow before His benevolence benign
Submit to Saviour’s sustenance sublime
Allow Abba access to what’s abscess always
Without His willing Will, won’t you want what you well will?

This is just spaghetti on the wall…
This is just spaghetti on the wall…

But maybe even you can’t see
What’s really happening to me.
I’m not my own, oh, mine I’m not,
See without Him, I’m just seeing through gut rot!

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