The colors have built up in my mind
They're bleeding through my heart
And nobody knows that they exist
Look at my bursted veins
Now do you see the red in me
It's a sign for the end

Only the end of the red
Will show you my blue side

I've been given my brush and plate
But where will i paint my life
And will the buyer in the sky
Believe in what i dream
And it's so hard for me to explain
What i will miss
To myself

Friday night and the lights are low.

Love is the Movement.

Why do we fall?
Is it some banal linear attribute of our belief to submerge want and ressurect need? Or do we in actual fact suppress and stifle necessity and redefine our want, false-labelling it as a need? For the inevitable ongoing search of human desire is a formidable sign of impending doom, a banner for the end. Now give kudos and prestige to those who dare live in glass houses, or move into them. 

You want to colonize a world with the produce and artifact, and you wonder why the barricade.
Swine ways and politics. Not the kingdom in mind.

I hate all your show and pretense
The hypocrisy of your praise
The hypocrisy of your festivals
I hate all your show
Away with your noisy worship
Away with your noisy hymns
I stomp on my ears when you’re singing ‘em
I hate all your show

Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show

- Jon Foreman

I have more than enough of burnt offerings, of ram and the fat of fattened animals.
isaiah 1:11

there are two ways to live a life
one is as though nothing is a miracle
the other is as if everything is


God is God, and I am not.