Church Doors And Skeptics

I found you holding a nail and a fragile piece of paper
What a lovely plot, nail it to a door
Two years later with a bag and a bowl
What a firm grip, what’s true to you?
You found me holding a record sending calls to your hand
«Let me speak to someone sitting close»
Two years later with the cancer in my heart
What a self-righteous act of youth
I hope
I hope you
I hope
You figure it out, figure it out
There’s blood on our shoes
And we love this room
Our brothers hands on our heads
A warm touch and an honest prayer
I hope
I hope you
I hope
You figure it out, figure it out
I hope
I hope we
I hope
We figure it out, figure this out