Lovesick is the latch that is to attach

To the pain I feel, bus ride in the heat,

Humility over humidity, windy city with a

Never ending skyline, Gospel lover send it

Over, will I die as this Beloved Messenger?

Sex sells all over this God forsaken computer in

Front of me—pleasure is man’s measure to obtain

But wrath stays stored up, I now stay poored up in

The pouring rain, wasting my life in empty rooms

Praying to unseen forces, crying over the tragedy

I call sin’s sickness—this is the condemnation—

I love what I condemn, I love the darkness too,

It is not just them over there—I have wasted away

Too much money on sugar and that Eagle Eyed Cherry

Night, fighting the dawn with you, up late with the English

Patient but I knew it was the desert I had to walk in—like

Salt in the mouth it never seems to end, what now is

Religion anyway? Cause I am a pleasure renegade,

Cause I had those nights too will it seemed good to

Try to slip away, to try to hide away from the conscious

Fainted in the sin but the desire stays the same—love

Will have to proclaim me, but what does God feel?

Test today, failed it last year, one last time to get it

Right but still His face follows the trace of my outline

And an outline I feel, powerless after midnight to get

Anything right, I too am a failure and a fracture of a man

Free fallin plays on repeat for I love those old songs before

Pop music destroyed everything!

Superficial talks are no longer good enough,

Condoms are a bust even when they do not

Bust..yes, kids, as long as its safe? Really,

Hmmmmmmm..I can’t just sit around like

I am stupid because I am not but dumb is

Not in the bible but foolish is—this body bends

All kinds of ways but it will bow before Holy and

True, it will die with desire covered all around,

An imputed sound of a new sheriff in town—

King Jesus here to stay—I am not ready and I will

Not talk to kids like they don’t know what is going on—

Sure I shutter to say the word sex and naked and intercourse

And porn and scorn and shame and human trafficked little girls

And prostitutes that come to my church and tweakers in the

Skyline I call comfortable sunset time—meth addicts with no

Teeth to handle some real pleasure, some real love, some

Real mercy! We are all broken but how poor, how desperate

Are we for God, how much are we willing to give—I don’t

Know but I am pretty sure it is no less then everything