Save your grace
For Sundays and seders
And seek your savior's grace,
So you can save your place in heaven's line,
If you believe in that sorta thing.
Saints say the same thing,
So I'll decline the ride
I won't be taken on one,
I'd rather go out and walk
See what the woods have to say--
The secrets they hold
They're embedded in the bark
In the soil, in the dark,
If you listen on the wind
You can hear it whisperin'
And you may hear it different than me
Who even knows if it's the same to begin?
So I interface with the forest
Face to face
So my source is
The first
And not known thru seconds and thirds,
Then the meaning isn't stepped on
Chewed up, spit out,
Regurgitated--you
might even heard i made it,
Like gold that gets old
and looks tarnished and faded,
If you want to find God
Don't ask the man
They made into a monument,
They'll want to all follow you
If you learn to filter the truth.