There is a song for my family
Outside the walls of Sunday
Morning from some within.
This is a song to confess our sins,
Lay it all out, and try to begin again.
To hope again.
Please forgive our ignorance
In looking down on you
Please forgive our selfishness
For hiding in our pews while the world bleeds
While the world needs us to be what we should be
This is a song for my family who
Just can't believe in the Jesus that you've seen on Sunday morning.
This is a song for the cynical saints.
The burned out and hopeless.
The ones that we've cast away.
I feel your pain.
Please forgive the wastefulness of all that we could be
But don't forget, there's more than this
Her beauty still exists
His bride is still alive
His bride is still alive
His bride is still alive
His bride is still alive
His bride is still alive
This is a song for my family inside
The walls of Sunday morning.
Be what you should be.