I’m still waking up to my identity and how dare I ask for anything but you’ve given me more than a flashy ring, I sing battling the river of unbelief
How could you leave me here knowing these people don’t care as long as I show up and work, people making money singing safe lines, eight times, calling it worship music when I can do much better, in the spirit not by the letter
Christian music some good and bad, sometimes making me mad, afraid to say Jesus but secular thoughts flow like fall breezes, cheesy lines with gold chains, same old script broken lanes
Judas with the little pocket change, not a drop of royal blood in veins, I have to strain to tie any scripture in, they want popularity never for sin to end, preaching borderline obedience Jesus as a silent friend
Let me at em I’ll show em, be like Grits with much-needed poems, Toby Mac with the wake-up elbowing, KJ-52 with strange mists, Kevin Max-like how I’ll resist, Cross Movement never counterfeit, cooking em all on a Skillet, switching my foot Switchfoot at the pulpit.