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Fishers of men
A girl was born the other day;
her heart was made of gold.
But this world turned it into glass, so she made it into stone.
She feels like there is none to whom she can relate,
and has to accept she is destined to lose every race.
For whenever she strives for first she winds up finishing last,
and when she accelerates, it will end in a crash.
Fast forward twenty years.
She’s been running against the wind, biting back tears.
Through all of the rivers and all of the valleys,
there’s never a mountain top in sight around here,
there’s only the shadows of past fears.
Through all of the turmoil and the trauma
there has never been one to hold her hand,
to lead her to the promised land.
These scars I hide beneath my skin
are buried deep within.
I am shackled by my sin.
When will I see some fishers of men?
Rewind, looking back;
What did you expect to stem from this neglect?
People never seem to notice, they never seem to see,
what can stem from situations like these.
Where is the church?
Where are the brothers?
My armor is strong, but tender flesh lies beneath.
How could you know with my mouth sealed shut?
I sit in the back pew, just taking up room.
I listen to everyone else telling me their woes.
It makes me wonder who even wants to know.
