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Album: Good Monsters |
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Jars Of Clay-Oh My God |
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Oh my God, look around this place |
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Your fingers reach around the bone |
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You set the break and set the tone |
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Flights of grace, and future falls |
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In present pain |
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All fools say, "Oh my God" |
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Oh my God, Why are we so afraid? |
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We make it worse when we don't bleed |
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There is no cure for our disease |
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Turn a phrase, and rise again |
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Or fake your death and only tell your closest friend |
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Oh my God. |
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Oh my God, can I complain? |
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You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief |
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Weddings, boats and alibis |
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All drift away, and a mother cries |
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Liars and fools; sons and failures |
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Thieves will always say |
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Lost and found; ailing wanderers |
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Healers always say |
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Whores and angels; men with problems |
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Leavers always say |
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Broken hearted; separated |
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Orphans always say |
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War creators; racial haters |
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Preachers always say |
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Distant fathers; fallen warriors |
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Givers always say |
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Pilgrim saints; lonely widows |
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Users always say |
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Fearful mothers; watchful doubters |
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Saviors always say |
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Sometimes I cannot forgive |
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And these days, mercy cuts so deep |
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If the world was how it should be, maybe I |
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could get some sleep |
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While I lay, I dream we're better, |
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Scales were gone and faces light |
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When we wake, we hate our brother |
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We still move to hurt each other |
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Sometimes I can close my eyes, |
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And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing, |
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What makes me so badly bent? |
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We all have a chance to murder |
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We all feel the need for wonder |
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We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder |
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Sometimes when I lose my grip, |
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I wonder what to make of heaven |
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All the times I thought to reach up |
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All the times I had to give |
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Babies underneath their beds |
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Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes, |
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All the comforts of cathedrals |
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All the cries of thirsty children - |
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this is our inheritance |
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All the rage of watching mothers - |
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this is our greatest offense |
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Oh my God |
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Oh my God |
