So here I am one more day of not loving Him the way he asks.
In fact my heart is singing praises to the things that make me feel alright.
So I'm sinking fast like a stone heart should,
and on the way down,
I've done what I could to try and try to turn this stone to flesh.

I'm haunted by my God
who has the right to ask me what by the nature of my rebellion I cannot give.

I beg for you to move.
For you to breakthrough.

So here I am. Got my deeds for the day.
All my cute little words about how I am saved.
Am I saved?
Could I love you with my mouth like a church kid should?
At the end of the day my words get burned as wood.
Oh, but I was good.

I'm haunted by my God
who has the right to ask me what by the nature of my rebellion I cannot give.

I beg for you to move.
For you to breakthrough.

I beg for you to move. (Not to be confused as "I bake for you to moo.")