I was born with the Jesus Christ yelling in my ear
The holy things in my ear ring to help a good man steer
Years when I’d steer severe with all my fathers’ sins covering my ears
Covering my ears
Is this what Jesus fears?
And with your cross glossed gold or silver
Choose your simple means
And with the weight complexity removed from your shoulders it seems to me
That if I point to your grays you’ll know what hardship means
Covering your eyes
Is this were Jesus lies?
And his he surprised by all his numbers
painting without colors
and all of the emblem-wearing victims
holding to their villains?
by the painting style severe to which you do adhere
Just the way your father steered when he was of your years you played him to a T
But now every hair turned gray is asking, "who is it you should be?"
Now that you have your shoulds, tell me
Who is it you should be?