Misfit

Are you ready?
Better start getting it then.
Are you ready yet?
I hope I don’t go so fast you can’t chase me.
I hope you can see there’s a cross on my back,
I won’t lead,
No, no,
I won’t lead.
I’ve been made to shine a light ahead of me,
It diffuses to the sides but was never made for finger pointing.
I’m a misfit like the definition needs expanding,
But I believe in Jesus even though I am no pastor.
I have tons of faith, but I have flesh that looks for passwords.
I keep getting later, but my God is faithful anyway.
I keep meeting haters, touched a Cadillac, but got yelled at like I’m gay.
Not sure what derogatory attitudes can give a situation,
And for what it’s worth, I think angry people say anything,
But at least I can relate in a small way.
Don’t get into cars that just wanna peel away,
Take a second second before you take advice to garden state,
Focus on the work that actually matters, build and make.
I know I can’t think like you, call me Narcissus, it’s hate.
I don’t really care anymore, I’m just kinda sorry that you make
Like I’m a terrible imitation of your faith.
Get over yourself. You’re temporary as a snowflake.
All your life can do is agree with what God says.
That’s infinitely better, should I sugar coat again?
Jabber on and on about love, but we never start with grace.
Well, I’m well on my way
And I left my black eye where it’s paved.
The straight and narrow isn’t fake.
How much more do we think we can take
Than chasing Better day by day,
And constantly fanning our own faith.
I don’t need to change my pace,
I did not decide my face,
My socially awkward ways,
I did not pick my place,
Never asked for the outcast blame,
But I’m still here, I’m still okay,
Jesus still hears when I pray.
I think I might fly away
And won’t look back to watch you chase.
Delete the verse about my medication,
What’s the point? It’s just fodder for the crazies,
The livid, illucid, raving mad sorry cases,
I had a shit time this morning,
And I hope it’s okay if I moan a bit.
I might regret the way that I worded this.
If I can’t talk straight, why bother to present
Myself at all? Might as well stay in bed.
I keep putting violins into songs
And I see what that looks like.
Call whine-one-one, I hear the tiniest fiddle,
But that knife blade’s so dull, you might have to whittle.
I’m not sure we need this pit stop, so let’s skip the drivel.
I’m not here to fake my way, I needed help so badly.
But they left us in the cold, what could we do but rally?
Hungry band of misfit wanderers, waiting ’til we’re patient.
Is there less or more in store for steady misbehaviour?
Where’s the translation assistant? Maybe hearts are worth a bit more.
Maybe what’s inside is where
Jesus wants to help us care.
I am tired, but I dare
To pray to God instead of despair.
I hope I’m not completely wrong again.

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