Well the poet is stuck in the mud And the dreamer is finding his way home from the stars And the visionary's watching his feet 'Cause the sentimental fool is numb again
Simple hand, simple eye, nothing to write home about Yet the artist chisels at the stone Curious, the child tugs the fingers of the bigger He wants to see the face that is his own He's not alone
Lord Help me be the one You're making me, yeah Lord help me see the one You're making me The one You're making me, the one You're making me
Well we push it off and pull Him in We fist His lips and we kick His shin We post a sign, turn and throttle away And barely listen to a single word He has to say. By his eye a tendril fell He cast a word, but not a spell It's all tied up... it's all done I was a cancer, but you have made me a son
Lord Help me be the one You're making me, yeah Lord help me see the one You're making me The one You're making me, the one You're making me
I feel the wild whims of the wicked as I wonder whether Ashes burn twice or these thoughts be put under a fire To be burned as I have tried to learn from the whisper of His will While I am standing still And the night fell fast, I crashed and blast my prayers like through a megaphone Aimed all of my feelings at the ceiling Cuz I want to know who I am And if I really have a Home
Lord Help me be the one You're making me, yeah Lord help me see the one You're making me The one You're making me, the one You're making me
