With eyes adjusted to the darkness
When you see the light it's blinding
Within the struggle the hungry and humble are finding
A new sense of self, a new kind of wealthy, unholy glory
Paint your own picture, write your own scripture, tell your own story
So with a melody in our pockets
And hunger in our hearts
With the songs we wrote a purpose
Our emptiness became an art
A literal Homeless Gospel Choir preachin' to ourselves
The word passed through us and nobody knew us
But already a connection was felt
We abandoned all dillusion about ever coming to any conclusions
Our dream seemed like a sickness
We were victims of our convictions
In the simplest of coincidence
There's a glimpse of some complex system
Purity in immaturity
Divinity in silliness
We saw the light at the top of the mountain
It looked so much dreamier from down here
And the flow we follow fearlessly has shown us that uncertainty
Is surely the only thing that's clear
A shrug of our shoulders makes us much bolder
Than clarity or conviction ever could
With all fears to confront and work to be done
It's all bullshit, let's have some fun!