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I clung to miracles I have not seen |
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From ancient autographs I can not read |
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And though I've repented I'm still tempted I admit |
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But it's not what bearing witness is |
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Too full of fear and prophecy to see |
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The revelation right in front of me |
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So sick and tired of trying to make the pieces fit |
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Because it's not what bearing witness is |
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When the gap between |
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What I hoped would be |
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And what is makes me weep for my kids |
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I take a cleansing breath and make a positive confession |
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But is that what bearing witness is |
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Though it may alienate your family |
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And blur the lines of your identity |
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Let go of what you know and honor what exists |
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Son, that's what bearing witness is |
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Daughter, that's what bearing witness is |
