Pain and betrayal are in my voice when I
Make the choice to speak of you, to let you
In since age of ten, interstate life, freeway
Driven, mile high city higher than ever,
Thin air, thin hair, it was growing off of you,
Did you regret it? Did Sundays change you?
I took back Sunday with the rest of the weeks,
I waited and waited for you to change,
Waited for nearly to long, now there is
Nothing but L.A. smog, highway five to
Get to you, to press renew, to press redo,
To get a hold of new—only one Father,
One Spirit, one baptism, one faith, one
God and Father of us all—now I wait,
Not for the past to rewrite itself inside
Of me—but for the future to take a hold
Of me