It's the Small Things: enough. my head hurts.

Thursday, June 4

enough. my head hurts.

In this world of news, I've found nothing new, I've found nothing pure
Maybe I'm just idealistic to assume that truth could be fact and form
That love could be a verb; Maybe I'm just a little misinformed
As the dead moon rises, and the freeways sigh
Maybe our stars are unanimously tired

When my world explodes, when my stars touch the ground
Falling down like broken satellites

- Switchfoot

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Melodies

I was sure by now, God, you would have reached down and wiped our tears away, stepped in to save the day. But once again, I say, "Amen," and it's still raining. I remember when I stumbled in the wind. You heard my cry, you raised me up again. My strength is almost gone. How can I carry on if I can't find you?

And as the thunder rolls, I barely hear you whisper through the rain, "I'm with you." And as your mercy falls, I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away.

And I'll praise you in this storm and I will lift my hands. You are who you are, no matter where I am. Every tear I cry you hold in your hands. You never left my side and though my heart is torn, I will praise you in this storm.

I lift my eyes unto the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes the Lord, the maker of Heaven and Earth.

It's the Small Things

Thursday, June 4

enough. my head hurts.

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