In my house, I find that those with hard hearts, they burden me with their contempt. I can not bring myself to love as I should. No. Stomachs turn. Every kind word must be earned with an act. I am not spoken to as a man and my heart, it plots. I can feel the weight of a practiced prayer miles away. The fear that I must have an enemy to motivate is all too real. But have I found my enemy in myself, or in others that see their own weaknesses in my work?
They have no worth.
The door will strike on the way out
if the right questions are asked
Somewhere there is a catalog of my failures
It is held by men
and I do not hold any sway
Knowing this
it has sharpened my tongue
to that of an expert
I serve better as a buffer
than I did as a brother
I allowed authority over myself
that [was] meant to guard my heart as a lion
And in turn move not
I chose to prepare for pain and follow
It to its ruin
To my own ruin
Promise to not let me get comfortable.
They have no worth.
The door will strike on the way out
if the right questions are asked
Somewhere there is a catalog of my failures
It is held by men
and I do not hold any sway
Knowing this
it has sharpened my tongue
to that of an expert
I serve better as a buffer
than I did as a brother
I allowed authority over myself
that [was] meant to guard my heart as a lion
And in turn move not
I chose to prepare for pain and follow
It to its ruin
To my own ruin
Promise to not let me get comfortable.