| Prostrate kneeling on the floor
|
| Skin and bone against a board
|
| Nervous brow and sweaty fingers
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| Dimpled chin against a fist
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| If this is fate, this is it
|
| Across the lips and hope to linger
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| Whatever I ask for, you say you’ll give
|
| On all of this, my hope is pinned
|
| I offer it up, though I can’t see
|
| In all of this, all of this
|
| Return to me
|
| Scared to scream you whisper
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| Hope to shout, there’s no words
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| Hope the spirit gets it right
|
| With all this intercession
|
| Pray that my confession
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| Won’t blind your will tonight
|
| Whatever I ask for, you say you’ll give
|
| On all of this, my hope is pinned
|
| I offer it up, though I can’t see
|
| In all of this, all of this
|
| Return to me
|
| I am scared to count the hours
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| That I have wasted by talking to myself
|
| But a thousand years to you is
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| Is but a day
|
| That’s why I…
|
| Whatever I ask for, you say you’ll give
|
| On all of this, my hope is pinned
|
| I offer it up, though I can’t see
|
| In all of this, all of this
|
| Return to me
|
| Return |