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