Even though there’s no way in knowing where to go,
promise I’m going.
And this life sentence that I’m serving,
I admit that I’m every bit deserving,
but the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair.
I am a hostage to my own humanity —
self-detained and forced to live in this mess I’ve made.
And all I’m asking is for you to do what you can with me,
but I can’t ask you to give what you already gave.
Cause I’ve been housing all this doubt and insecurity,
and I’ve been locked inside that house, all the while you hold the key.