This rope has got my by the teeth.
I didn’t know I could be so foolish,
and neglect to allow the grass its growth.
But the road is hard on a wealthy man with shaky hands,
comfortable in his clothes,
with the fear, the greed his prudent parents bestowed.
This place is cold.
Yet is it bold?
This place is cold.
Yet is it bold?
Is it bold enough to move along without its children?
This place is oh so cold.
And I can’t sing praises like the trees,
o no, but I can fall to my knees.
I can find them beautiful.
I can learn to adore what’s simple.
O my God, make me weak.
I could leave my mouth where it’s sitting,
till the weeds leave it hidden among the Pharisees.
Till I speak love, and a righteous man claims heresy.
I saw Jesus among the pigeons.
I found him in a drunk man’s vision.
I just wanna give.
I just wanna give.
I just wanna give what I’ve been given.
This place is bold.
This place is dauntless.
It needs not our assistance.
This place is for the birds.