she says, “c'est la vie,”
“that’s life,” says she,
but, i want to thrive, not just survive.
when our lives are all but picturesque
we begin to bemoan our own existence.

she says, “c’est la vie,”
“that’s life,” says she,
but, oh, my darling, it shouldn’t be.
‘cause we’re all but fish caught in this Fisher’s net
sent out again so we can fish for men.

she says, “c’est la vie,”
“that’s life,” says she,
but, i can’t even begin to see
past the circumstances that cloud my life
to the nails that pierced His hands that tearful Friday afternoon.

see, i’ve been searching for some meaning
i thought i knew what i had planned
but, the Planner laughed, said, “son, you just don’t understand,
i am the Author of Existence and i prescribed you for something greater,”
but, what is it, God? could You give me a hint?
‘cause while i wait for You to show me the way
i’m losing myself in counting my woes.

she says i need to learn to love myself, but what’s my motivation?
You say i’m beautiful, the most precious of Your Creation,
but, i abuse myself with myself
and i abhor myself with myself
because, i don’t know if You noticed, but i’m a wreck.

i search for love in all the wrong places,
maybe in the silverscreen or naked on my computer screen, but,
gosh, it seems it sure ain’t there.
so while i struggle for the words, i’m probably sounding quite absurd
yet, it doesn’t change the fact that i think i’m better off with what i had, yeah,
‘cause, i keep second-guessing myself and doubting You have a plan
doubting that You came down to die for a wretch like me.

Father, You’ve taught me a lot about love but a lot more about loss
and, as of now, i’m lurching from the turn and from the toss of this monumental storm.
and, maybe it’s just happening
so i’ll part with my mask and sing
Your praises, God, ‘cause that’s what You deserve.


y’know, for an optimist, i’m pretty pessimistic,
i can identify the problems with far more clarity
and undermine Your perfect authority
because i’m obsessed with myself.
yeah, it’s kinda funny, ‘cause as much as i hate me
i got a funny way of showin’ it,
spoiling myself rotten with self-indulgence.

i used to get so angry at the Church
because it ostracized me for the way i dress
‘cause i looked up to dudes with tattoos on their skin
and i listened to what they said about the Bride’s corruption,
convinced that they were correct in every form
but, i didn’t even understand the essence of the word.

“fags will roast in hell,” is what their signs would read
and, i swear to God, it used to make me turn so angrily.
with all my heart, i wanted to make them burn,
break off their pointing fingers and silence them for good.

how could a God who loves condone this choice of action?
Jesus flipped tables on the Pharisees, and in my misguided wrath
i thought my fury was somehow justified.
and then i remembered my King, who begged His Father to forgive the very men
who drove a spear into his side.
so, God redeemed that broken part of me
and showed me that His heart breaks for all His creation.

this endless finger-pointing won’t get us anywhere.
we must move past addressing the issues that are all-too apparent
and begin the tough work of actually fixing them.
Jesus’ heart broke for both the mute and the lame, the leper and the paralytic.
His heart breaks for free-thinkers and legalists, just the same.

you see, we’re all the Church, we’re all the Bride
redeemed by Christ and sanctified,
but we still love to act just like a whore.
yet, according to Him, we’re still lovely
He even frees our eyes to see
that there’s more to His beloved than just our flaws.

despite the fact that we’re enticed by other men,
He still sees fit to offer us His hand.
oh, what Grace, and we so underserving
this beautiful mystery defies understanding.
this Great Romance: forgiveness without end.