We build our booths
While God builds a Kingdom
We know His songs
But would rather not sing them
Mercy for us and our beloved
While our enemies we’d rather shove
Under the full weight of what they deserve
Upset that God seems to grade on a curve
“For all have sinned and fall short”
He says
But we know some who are shorter.
They are the ones pushed out of our borders.
The ones we’d rather not his grace arrive.
Even though it’s the same grace
That keeps us alive.
words from wick 