Making Me - Downhere

Well the poet is stuck in the mud

And the dreamer is finding his way home from the stars

And the visionary’s watching his feet

'Cause the sentimental fool is numb again

Simple hand, simple eye, nothing to write home about

Yet the artist chisels at the stone

Curious, the child tugs the fingers of the bigger

He wants to see the face that is his own

He’s not alone

Lord Help me be the one You’re making me, yeah

Lord help me see the one You’re making me The one You’re making me, the one You’re making me Well we push it off and pull Him in We fist His lips and we kick His shin

We post a sign, turn and throttle away

And barely listen to a single word He has to say.

By his eye a tendril fell

He cast a word, but not a spell

It’s all tied up it’s all done

I was a cancer, but you have made me a son

Lord Help me be the one You’re making me, yeah

Lord help me see the one You’re making me The one You’re making me, the one You’re making me I feel the wild whims of the wicked as I wonder whether

Ashes burn twice or these thoughts be put under a fire

To be burned as I have tried to learn

from the whisper of His will

While I am standing still

And the night fell fast, I crashed

and blast my prayers like through a megaphone

Aimed all of my feelings at the ceiling

Cuz I want to know who I am And if I really have a Home

Lord Help me be the one You’re making me, yeah

Lord help me see the one You’re making me The one You’re making me, the one You’re making me