Hill up the road, gathering thoughts never adding the way I want them
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Sweet Jesus show me through the Indian paintbrush
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Faith was
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Cursed upon me, a mustard seed was good enough for him and good enough to me
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Or after all, will I shake my magic 8 ball, it's bubbling
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And the brisk walking heartbeat won't tire me, it keeps me strong
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Faith was
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Cursed upon me, a mustard seed was good enough for him and its good enough to me
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Pillar of salt, shaker of black
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Killer of thought, turning my back
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Believe you were wrong and said they would laugh and I'm trying to be humble about it
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I like the rain, I like going against the grain
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Seems to me I'm cutting out a simple pattern
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---she was weak---
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Hill up the road, watching my thoughts chase each other
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Sweet Jesus show me the faith cursed upon me
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--she walked away--
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-----------------
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Mustard Seed
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| Kidneythieves |
