i blow thru like a wind in the trees
that brings you to your knees, and ushers in the storm
that fertilizes the seeds that i planted
it's magic their fruits nourish the needs
of the famished souls diseased
with a sickness of the eyes that
makes food appear poison like cianide
so we're eating arsenic and dying inside
but reaching up like we're dying to rise
quicksand is keeping up, trying to drown the problems
we're deep in a cup, knee deep in a rut, the more we struggle
the quicker that sand be seeping up
i've seen enough to know how the story ends
so i'm hoping its an end to purgatory
when it ain't no choice left, we lay pain to rest
and start to count how many ways we've been blessed
and hold our faith so tight to the chest, welcome the tests
we do our best....yeah and God does the rest
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