A Title


I’ve been to this place before;
At the entrance of the gate.
I could walk right in and take my place,
But I don’t want to fake it – anymore.

I feel like a prisoner,
You say that I’m the prodigal.
I could walk right in and take my place,
But I don’t want to fake it.

I refuse to have a rock take my place.
I refuse to have the trees dance alone.

If my praises were lifted here,
I fear that You’d refuse them.
If my sins were poured out, brought to face.
It’d be more than I could bare.

I refuse to have a rock take my place.
I refuse to have the trees dance alone.

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