Saturday I could feet the crowd's dismay They've acquired quite a fire to burn the profane on a funeral pyre Voices shrill cutting silence like they mean to kill Some pep rally where we scream His name like God was loosing in a football game
Chorus: I don't want to waste His name this time I will never cast Him to the swine (Grasping at some feeling you once knew is nothing sacred ever safe with you?)
Silver tongues all the spirit of an iron lung Selling highs as if we needed one Flash the lights so not be outdone Counterfeit wanting joy so much we take a hit like a tapeworm deep in hunger digs Waste the sacred just to feed these pigs
If this is real, then you must find it between the space of grace and grim It's nothing you can manufacture your walls cannot contain Him
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