| Come you sinners poor and needy,
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| Weak and wounded, sick and sore,
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| Jesus ready stands to save you,
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| Grace requires nothing more,
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| I will arise and go to Jesus,
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| He will embrace me in His arms,
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| In the arms of my dear Savior,
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| There are ten thousands charms,
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| Why is it every time I step up on a train,
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| I see a pretty dame and I wonder what her name is,
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| for' I even get there the question on my brain is,
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| do you love the Lord do you live to make Him famous?
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| then the cart stop, she step off, it’s time to refocus,
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| I’m questioning my heart, examining my motives,
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| why I’m captivated by the brown skin mocha divas,
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| and I hope in my mind she’s a believer,
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| ok, she got all that beauty yea it’s obvious,
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| I can’t let it take precedence over Godliness,
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| now I’m getting restless,
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| how I’m recognizing when I’m choosing to take pleasure in all these false
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| treasures,
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| they fools gold,
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| instead of looking for them sundresses,
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| I should be looking for the Son I confess it,
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| even though my prides telling me don’t let the fans know,
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| I am not a superhuman though,
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| I am a man,
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| so the grace that I talk about on all my records,
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| I need it for myself, cause really I’m just a mess,
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| finding rest from the pressures of perfection,
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| as I stand up on this platform they expectin,
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| me to be a man without flaws, that’s false,
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| I am just another rapper that’s called to point ya’ll to the cross,
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| and that’s exactly where I’m headed,
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| I’m just another beggar pointin ya’ll to where the bread is,
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| maaan.
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| I’m not a superhuman
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| I am just a man,
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| No, I’m not a superhuman,
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| I am just a man,
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| I’m not a superhuman,
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| I am just a man, but they never understand,
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| I’m nothing more than a man lost, dead in my sin,
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| So here I am alive in Your hands,
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| Your hands, Your hands
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| We dress up in nice heels, we try to make people buy’em,
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| that’s why when someone ask how we doin, we tell’em fine,
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| knowing we hurt inside, but tell me who’s really lyin,
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| they ain’t really wanna know how you doin, that cost time,
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| that’s way too expensive,
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| and if I ever get a date with a dime I’m sending my representative,
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| the version of Andy that’s cropped and edited,
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| I’m killin this first impression, and I’m hidin the evidence,
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| Yea, photoshoppin the blemishes,
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| these lies of perfection are the cry of the desperate,
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| men that want that acceptance,
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| holdin they breath, dyin a thousand deaths,
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| forgettin there’s beauty inside the mess,
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| what else could you expect? |
| we obsessed over twitter numbers,
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| checkin ours, then comparing them to others, like,
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| the number of likes upon a status is somehow suppose to raise our status,
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| boy, this is madness,
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| we want the trophy wife who’s the baddest and not some average,
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| so we can feel like the man, Randy Savage,
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| take me off the shelf, I don’t wanna be for retail,
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| I would rather be real, let you see the details,
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| when we fell, it feels like we fall so far cause they put us so high,
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| I am not a star,
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| I’m just a product of grace that’s still in the process,
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| and I don’t gotta be great, because my God is,
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| and I don’t gotta be great, because my God is,
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| I’m just a product of grace and guess what?
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| I’m still in the process, there’s unfinished business
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| Would you love me if I told you I couldn’t fly?
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| I got no cape on and no mask on there’s no disguise,
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| Oh I’m no hero
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| There’s only one,
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| Oh I’m no hero,
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| There’s only one,
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| and He’s not for sale,
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| I’m not a superhuman
|
| I am just a man,
|
| No, I’m not a superhuman,
|
| I am just a man,
|
| I’m not a superhuman,
|
| I am just a man, but they never understand,
|
| I’m nothing more than a man lost, dead in my sin,
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| So here I am alive in Your hands,
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| Your hands, Your hands |