| This isn’t easy
|
| For me to admit
|
| I got a fire inside and some words I know I can’t keep in
|
| I see faith turning
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| Into a show
|
| Of Sundays and sermons
|
| And words getting caught in the flow
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| Oh, but we got real pain and real fears
|
| Thirsting for the drying of our real tears
|
| It’s not satisfying anymore
|
| Ain’t it true that the veil was torn
|
| I don’t need no stained glass
|
| To be washed in his blood
|
| I don’t need no perfect, put together pretty words
|
| To be enough, no
|
| I want Jesus and his real love
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| Something I crave deep inside of my bones
|
| So you can leave your religion at home
|
| Spent my life trying
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| To keep all the rules
|
| Now I know it’s about what he’s already done
|
| Not about what I think that I gotta do
|
| I don’t need no stained glass
|
| To be washed in his blood
|
| I don’t need no perfect, put together pretty words
|
| To be enough, no
|
| I want Jesus and his real love
|
| Something I crave deep inside of my bones
|
| So you can leave your religion at home
|
| I want real, real love, hey
|
| I got real pain and real fears
|
| Thirsting for the drying of real tears |
| It’s not satisfying anymore
|
| Ain’t it true that the veil was torn
|
| I don’t need no stained glass
|
| To be washed in his blood
|
| I don’t need no perfect, put together pretty words
|
| To be enough, no
|
| I want Jesus and his real love
|
| Something I crave deep inside of my bones
|
| So you can leave your religion at home
|
| I want real, real love
|
| I want real, real love
|
| I want real, real love
|
| Oh, ye—yeah, yeah |