Where am I supposed to turn to?

All my bridges done been burned through

And I'm caught here in the middle

My purpose is a riddle

So to calm me out like Ritalin

I’m leaning on these little sins

Seem insignificant but they're changing me in increments

The man that I'm becoming

So often wish I wasn’t

What does it mean to be a son, a brother and a husband

And know just how to live right?

Be honourable at midnight

Do your duty, know your plan and lead others with foresight?

Can I be weak?

Can I let you see I'm vulnerable?

That I don't have the answers I'm not an oracle

I know it's horrible

Does it make you look away?

Or can you find the heart to stay?

Let's steal away and pray together for a minute

I'm asking for acceptance

I'm a work that is half-finished

And in order to be shaped I know at points I’ll be diminished

For the character of Christ in this clay to be distinguished

This is my becoming

At times it’s unbecoming

This is my becoming

At time it's unbecoming

Trying to make my mark on the world

Without it marking me

But pride will set me up for a fall

Just like an Autumn leaf

I’m trying to be deceased

Dead to the world so it could never rob my peace

And dead to the words of ones my pride would like to please

An audience of One

The one who died to call me, "Son"

The one who set off on the road and looked at me to bid me, "Come!"

That's the journey that my heart's on

That daily I embark on

That "Here am I, send me" would be my swan song

But Samsonite and Swanson

Man so I often I've been way off

Manipulate like Madoff

Eyes running wild on the street like kids with days off

Ask me what I’m made of

Am I just a bag of tricks?

Acting like I'm five or six

Crying to be picked?

Stomp my feet and throw my toys

Making sure you hear the noise

To show my displeasure

You're messing with my leisure!

Father God, you're judging the heart

Show me how life is measured

This is my becoming

At times it's unbecoming

This is my becoming

At time it's unbecoming

Keep it together

Show 'em that you're clever

Let 'em know the importance and grandeur of your endeavours

They'd better know you're busy

You're doing stuff that matters

You never get to sleep

Last week you had three hours

Of course you're humble

It ain't about the power

But when the teacher visits

You're too busy building towers

Busybody, you're too busy for the rabble

Build a city to the Lord

On the map they call it "Babble"

It's not me though

I'm holding to the credo

Surely I'm above reproach

Never incognito

Strive to do my duties

I'm doing what's expected

I'm paid up on my tax

What's the deal with this inspection?

I thought whatever's left was down to my discretion

Now you say I'm supposed to die

How's that different from oppression?

Just then I caught the Master's eye in my direction

He said, "Nothing that doesn't die can have a resurrection"

This is my becoming

At times it's unbecoming

This is my becoming

From the man I wish I wasn't

This is my becoming

I am the Beloved

Just then I caught the Master's eye in my direction

He said, "Nothing that doesn't die can have a resurrection"