The static silence The static silence

[intro] They say the truth is a frequency.

But there’s so much static on the airwaves, man.

I’m sitting in the front pew every Sunday, palms sweating, waiting for the ceiling to open up.

I’m just trying to pour out enough of me... so You can pour enough of You back in.

I’m ready. Just take the wheel.[verse 1] I’m scanning the frequencies, trying to locate the sacred geometry

Searching for remnants of grace in a place where they’re selling me blasphemy

I’m trying to fill up the vessel, but cracks in the porcelain threaten the mission

I’m stuck in a loop of the human condition, seeking a Higher transmission

Every Sunday I’m present, but am I really there?

Or just catching a rhythm, pretending I’m breathing in thinner air?

I want to be anointed, dripping in oil, sanctified pressure

Trying to measure the soul in a world that only respects the silver and treasure

It’s heavy, the mantle I’m seeking, the valley is steep and the shadows are long

And the devil is whistling melodies, trying to sharpen the edge of the song

I’m grounded in scripture, but drift when the concrete starts shifting its weight

I’m knocking on heaven’s door, but I’m struggling to find the right gate

Is it internal? Is it a fire that burns in the marrow?

Or just the narrow path that I’m walking, carrying ghosts in a barrow?

I’m tired of the surface, I’m digging for depth in the soil of my mind

Trying to leave all the wreckage of ego and malice behind.[hook] Fill the horn, let the anointing flow like a river in drought

I’m surrendering the driver’s seat, casting away every ounce of the doubt

Show me the way, Heavenly Father, the map is erased

I don’t need a feeling to know that I’m standing in light of Your grace

Take the control, take the wheel, take the heavy crown off of my head

I’m starving for truth, let me feast on the spirit instead.[verse2] Ephesians 6, put on the armor, I’m ready for spiritual warfare

The darkness is loud in the city, there’s poison and malice in every layer

I’m navigating the landscape, but the optics are blurred by the glare of the sin

How do I invite the divine to reside when the world keeps on crawling within?

I’m reading the Word, Psalm 51, "Create in me a clean heart"

Tearing the ego to pieces, watching the old man fall apart

It’s a metamorphosis, grueling process, refining the gold in the flame

I’m calling on power, I’m calling on favor, I’m calling on the Name

It’s not just a ritual, Sunday is not just a calendar date on a wall

It’s the vertical reach, an attempt to stand firm while the kingdoms of Babylon fall

I’m human, I’m flawed, I’m a vessel of clay that’s prone to the break

But I’m leaning on mercy, the only foundation that’s steady enough to partake

Give me the guidance, the vision, the wisdom to navigate through the night

I’m turning the light on, I’m turning the switch, I’m walking into the light

I’m finished with fighting the current, I’m letting the Spirit decide

Take the keys to the vehicle, Lord, I’m enjoying the ride