What is this noise right here I hear?
This drowning out of thought and mind,
no noises lie inside I find
it's stealing who I want to be.

Concerns and hurts they challenge me.
They control what  I think.
They take me over to the brink
and there they question me.

But north is where my eyes should look
out past the shadowlands,
and fix my heart on god's own plans
and free from devil's hook.

Communion is the holy love
that jesus gave to his twelve men
and I need to go back again
and for myself see new life dove.

A thumbprint tells you who you are?
Are we basically only that?
Does god see more inside than that
or are we who we always are?

Other's lives have been affected
by what I've done to them.
Can I help them, give to them?
I think we are connected.

The worker comes and rakes the land
with all his workers tools.
He is not from the band of fools
He works, gives life from hand

The thought of life after my death
it plagues my inner soul.
The people that are laid in holes
and them that have no breath.