I know all about misery, I've done the deed
I'm not a savior, my halo broke on my road to Christianity.
The result is myself feeling fake, there are no more ways to take
to get to the Church of Nazerene.
All my feathers blew to the ground.
I was naked when I showed unknowingly
feathers don't make a sound.
Help me find that faith inside.
I need to better place to go when I die.
And I'm tired of asking for saviors
when all that delivers are failures.
Shivering in the cold blooded breeze,
My wings are diseased.
My wings decrease.
My wings aren't me.
Soul searching for myself, Church of Nazerene.
Sins create secrets
secrets so dirty one can't get clean.
I will cry tears of blood, tie me up
walk on coals, heal the souls,
talk to God, the one I forgot,
starve half to death, have my last breath
JUST
to be saved at the Church of Nazerene.
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