its times like these that i used to be a lot closer to god well ive got friends that dont know him at all and when i miss him well its a shame that they dont know what theyre missing this will destroy you is my writing music and their progression makes me feel like im progressing through all of the empty inspiration and into something that might last like letters to lovers could transcend their pages and cut deep into the heart of the receiver well i read a love letter labeled emotion signed with hate love the deceiver and frankly i couldnt love him more well i dont know whats in store for us but i know that not every glorious answer to prayer is from god and some of these voices are not him speaking at all but its so simple to convince yourself that its the spirit talking to you o if practice makes perfect then i am going to pretend my way into feeling until i finally love my neighbor but son you are not writing out a single thing that is actually close to your heart and i know the music tugs at its strings but it hasnt pulled it apart and youve been writing for everybody else for so long that you dont know who you are because i swear the only way you find yourself nowadays is in these pages i have not written or prayed for days and days and days and days and days and days and day and days and days and days and days and days there is a time for everything thats under the sun and this one has run its course ive sworn up and down that there is more to pour out but its all forced and i dont know anymore that sadness became my comfort and maintaining it became my chore well there is a time to weep and there is a time to mourn and there is a time to laugh and it is fighting for its place in a time of war there are still monsters in my closets father are they ever going to stop sneaking up behind me is anybody else my age still afraid of a black night and do you run in the dark in a panic for the light well its the sunken disappointed creeping through my stomach in the morning rise and fall of lungs on the verge of collapse keeping me from talking to god its the sunken swollen eyelids making love to all things permissible but proven hardly profitable at all its the walls thick as paper i mean thin as paper i mean thick or thin as paper as thick or thin as the plaid pajama bottoms patiently passing as a passive activist for abstinence in between thick skin its the walls fragile as paper that i cant feel you through its all vanity and vapor that i cater to my emotions because i am the most important person in my universe interlocking fingers with both god and satan so that after ive made love to the devil i can stay on my knees and start praying there is a time for everything thats stuck under the sun but youve been stuck in one for years now and its time to move on if i have truly found a new beginning then why am i so hell bent on living in the past there is a difference between what you know and what you practice and ive had to practice purging my practices because i know ive heard promises of a life that gets past this what i want to do i dont and what i dont i do and ive been practicing depravity rather than knowing you god if your mercies are new every morning then all of this cant be grasping after the wind and ive seen vanity reach out its sweet hand to me and ive built my firm footing on its fragile whims oh there is a time to keep and a time to heal and i know that there has got to be a time to feel and the time is long past to cast away these stones im still broken but i know you can rebuild these bones i keep looking back before i go forward but i just want to set my sights on home ive got no plan b im just running for home im still dragging but i just want to make it home 