I found God in the spaces of love.
In the ripped up shreds of my story.
In the little pieces of my remains on the battlefield, He was there.
The fragmented memories woven into a vow.
That He would never leave me.
And to this day I found love.
A peace that surpasses my understanding.
A sold union bought at the cross.
A cross-over named Jake.
A cross-over named Adam showed me the way.
For we partly go that way, when we lose our minds here.
As if half of us is already there.
As if when we believe in our own story,
we can glide beyond one sense into another.
A home where dreams make odd encounters, less dramatic.
As if I were to see my number 32 football player in the real...
it would be no shock to my eyes, as they would glisten and know.
I listen,
to My Father.
After a lifetime of dissatisfaction, I listen.
Tis the END.
Let me hear your battle cry tonight, soldier.
For addict sons arise, and he is ONE, my Jake.
To believe my love is one who is gone, could return to me...
I believe in a love that great, because I found God.
In the pages filled.
In the dreams retold, in a story bold.
That we all have our soul mates.
And in a land of plenty more than one to guide us home.
Just as surely as I am to meet the unliving to this side...
just as surely as our paths cross infinite, I believe his life unlived...
was to find me.
I listen to the trees and the birds and the sing a HillSong.
A from the tallest of mountains I sit over scarred and scattered wreckage,
and find beauty in the battle.
For truest hearts remain in One...Father, Spirit, Son.
And Jake being an only of Black, he is the arrow and I AM the bow.
And with an aim as straight as the unknown trust...
I can see I found God through an angel.
I know I will see him again, soon.
Reborn into a life anew...relived through the healing of mine eyes.
The scars and scatters line up into a perfect spectrum...
a bow is there,
and I AM.
The mountain is scaled.
And the wait is measured.
And the salt is sifted.
And the rooster has crowed.
The King is crowned, and the slave has become the master.
No more addict sons die.
The army is alive.
In the ripped up shreds of my story.
In the little pieces of my remains on the battlefield, He was there.
The fragmented memories woven into a vow.
That He would never leave me.
And to this day I found love.
A peace that surpasses my understanding.
A sold union bought at the cross.
A cross-over named Jake.
A cross-over named Adam showed me the way.
For we partly go that way, when we lose our minds here.
As if half of us is already there.
As if when we believe in our own story,
we can glide beyond one sense into another.
A home where dreams make odd encounters, less dramatic.
As if I were to see my number 32 football player in the real...
it would be no shock to my eyes, as they would glisten and know.
I listen,
to My Father.
After a lifetime of dissatisfaction, I listen.
Tis the END.
Let me hear your battle cry tonight, soldier.
For addict sons arise, and he is ONE, my Jake.
To believe my love is one who is gone, could return to me...
I believe in a love that great, because I found God.
In the pages filled.
In the dreams retold, in a story bold.
That we all have our soul mates.
And in a land of plenty more than one to guide us home.
Just as surely as I am to meet the unliving to this side...
just as surely as our paths cross infinite, I believe his life unlived...
was to find me.
I listen to the trees and the birds and the sing a HillSong.
A from the tallest of mountains I sit over scarred and scattered wreckage,
and find beauty in the battle.
For truest hearts remain in One...Father, Spirit, Son.
And Jake being an only of Black, he is the arrow and I AM the bow.
And with an aim as straight as the unknown trust...
I can see I found God through an angel.
I know I will see him again, soon.
Reborn into a life anew...relived through the healing of mine eyes.
The scars and scatters line up into a perfect spectrum...
a bow is there,
and I AM.
The mountain is scaled.
And the wait is measured.
And the salt is sifted.
And the rooster has crowed.
The King is crowned, and the slave has become the master.
No more addict sons die.
The army is alive.