Look outside, a beautiful day
should go outside to have fun, to play
but something crazy is in the way
"Sorry Mom, I gotta tell you that I'm gay"
Little church right down the street
they heard me say it so they repeat
then suddenly no longer discreet
their words hit hard like seasoned concrete.
They judge and talk and then make fun
I'm one to pity, I'm one to shun
how I feel don't matter none
get back in my closet, get back to my gun.
Talkin' their talk, blowing up their phone
while they're busy I'll blow off my dome
feeling all exposed, all alone
I'll never get to go back home.
I'm just one of the ten percent
my life's all gone, my life's all spent
my spirit no longer need pay the rent
when will the church itself repent?
While you're singin' all your hymns
people like me be cuttin' their limbs
for them all hope is dim
turn your face, holy one, too ugly, too grim.
Why don't you put your song books down
and wipe off that self righteous frown
you ain't the council to the crown
just a whack, holier than thou clown.
While you're busy playin' church
and shouted that we're all just sinful perverts
God himself is on the alert
lookin' for all of us you have hurt.
And when he finds us beaten and bruised
bleeding and hurt and so confused
lost in thought and seriously bemused
heavenly first aid is never refused.
But a shout to Heaven brings his angels down
around the hurting they all surround
doesn't matter to them the word around town
a rainbow prism through their angel gown.
And a invisible hand to the hurt applying
wiping away the tears of those who are crying
laying down the guns, to keep them from dying
whispering to them "you gotta keep trying".
Sometimes God's gotta bypass his own
who are quick to judge to throw the first stone
whose hearts often seem like an arctic zone
to let others like me know they are never alone.
Lord, thanks for jumping over the crowd
to surround me with your protective shroud
to not be ashamed to say out loud
I love this one, and of her, I am proud.
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