Friday, Your Day

Of epic proportions, a life came to be
And I come down from whatever kind of heights
Past some brigade and liberation, and every of the fights
I've come to see that You are everything I need

Tis not a day of celebration, no not quite yet
It's still quite rusty, this remembrance we lay
Every broken tree nailed, and every stone we stray
Mind damaged and strained, breaking pierce set

I refuse to believe that I am lost
I refuse to choose to mean nothing
By these stripes of blood, definition of something
My life found here, I choose to be at the cross

Eerie and withered away every single cry
There is no stairway to heaven, but a runway to my heart
Spiralling downward and down to the ever broken part
Of my body, worth these three nails of life

So I'll sit still, believe I'm free to play
Every song I sing, every mask I move
Every sadness I bring upon myself, to tell the truth
Paths around my head, yes just show me the way