Like a tree clinging to life on a craggy cliff, like the last sunrays from the mountains
People come, drawn to something but nobody's quite sure what it is
Like a raindrop in a snowstorm
Hard to notice but it doesn't fit
Standing outside, I wonder what it's like
To never notice the hopelessness that's contained on the inside
With knowledge they're afraid to share and hearts they're ashamed to have
You could be a mountain of strength, but you're mistaken for a sham
With language no one uses and a fear of their neighbours
Like a drop of black ink in water the doubt takes over
When you say you're not ashamed or afraid of the truth
I wonder if you mean it from the gloomy way it's lived by you
Is this what they meant when they said the church was dying?
Why should it matter what the bitter have to say?
And you say you're not ashamed but why so much anger in your fighting?
Isn't it love that casts the fears away?
I'm tired of this, I'm sick of knowing what I see on the outside
But I will no come in until I know that you will not be makin me
Like you on the inside
Is the love we have so small that it's mistaken for a sham?