I am that son
Who sees greenest of grass anywhere but here
Who wipes the welcome on the mat and slams home's door
Who squanders royalty for cheap thrills
Who finds himself on par with pigs.
I am that Pharisee
Who knows the vocabulary
Who wears a mask of uncanny religious perfection
Who’s weary from the cover-up of woodpeckered insides.
I am that disciple
Who denies the sweetest love he's ever known
Who hears the bird call and how, how could this have happened.
I am that ruler
Who killed half the world and the stain’s deeper than deep.
At a man
Heaving for breath
And I just can’t believe
I held that whip
But here it is still in my hands
Did I gather those thorns
Yes the blood and guilt runs thick.
I am every thief, every liar, every murderer, every world-weary busted-up traveller
I am everyone who’s ever ranked sin from 1 to 10 and found the scale is broken
I am every simple human wrestling moment by moment with my fragile humanity
I am every broken soul, balled and chained and where’s the key.
Like a movie reel in my mind
The failures and the fallings
A million of the same
Lined up row upon row
Secrets I'll take to the grave
Secrets I wish were secrets
The mirror doesn’t lie
Never fails to shame when I dare to look
And I can’t help but look
Because this is me
The shame of past and present
In raging streaks of dirt and blood and ash
But there it is
A gentle knock on my heart-door at every sunrise
If I quiet the chaos I can hear it
Mercies new every morning
They come with the light of the day
Driving out darkness
Driving out shame
A new mirror
I turn to see I am clothed in the most beautiful of whites.
I love the colour purple, and polka dots, and fuzzy socks, and making music that is real and gritty and honest. You can find out more about what I'm to at www.jasonandcharmaine.com.