| My life began like any other man
|
| Held beneath a mother’s loving gaze
|
| Somewhere between now and then
|
| I lost the man I could have been
|
| Took everything that wasn’t mine to take
|
| But Love believes that it is not too late
|
| Only one of us deserves this cross
|
| A suffering that should belong to me
|
| Deep within this man I hang beside
|
| Is the place where shame and grace collide
|
| And it’s beautiful agony
|
| That He believes it’s not too late for me
|
| This is how Love wins, every single time
|
| Climbing high upon a tree where someone else should die
|
| This is how Love heals, the deepest part of you
|
| Letting Himself bleed into the middle of your wounds
|
| This is what Love says, standing at the door
|
| You don’t have to be who you’ve been before
|
| Silenced by His voice, death can’t speak again
|
| This is how Love wins
|
| Did you see this moment from the start
|
| That we would drink this of cup of suffering?
|
| I wonder, did we ever meet?
|
| Childhood games in dusty streets
|
| For all my many sorrows and regrets
|
| Nothing could compare to just this one
|
| That in the presence of my King
|
| I cannot fall upon my knees
|
| I cannot carry You up to Your throne
|
| You instead, will carry me back home
|
| This is how Love wins, every single time
|
| Climbing high upon a tree where someone else should die
|
| This is how Love heals, the deepest part of you
|
| Letting Himself bleed into the middle of your wounds
|
| This is what Love says, standing at the door
|
| You don’t have to be who you’ve been before
|
| Silenced by His voice, death can’t speak again
|
| This is how Love wins
|
| What can wash away my sin?
|
| Nothing but the blood, nothing but the blood
|
| What can make me whole again?
|
| Nothing but the blood, Nothing but the blood
|
| Because this is what Love say, standing at the door
|
| You don’t have to be who you’ve been before
|
| And silenced by His voice, death can’t speak again
|
| This is how Love wins
|
| This is how Love wins, every single time
|
| Climbing high upon a tree where someone else should die
|
| This is how Love heals, the deepest part of you
|
| Letting Himself bleed into the middle of your wounds
|
| This is what Love says, standing at the door
|
| You don’t have to be who you’ve been before
|
| Silenced by His voice, death can’t speak again
|
| This is how Love wins |