Wings

I used to think faith was a thing with wings,
perchin in the soul,
Just one little scare and it's all ready to fly the coop
and give up hope.
That if you touched those little wings,
They'd flake off in your hands
Like dust.

I used to think that Atheist books and rated-R films were all gonna send me straight to hell,
That if my windshield cracked or shattered,
I'd get bugs in my teeth, but you know,
I think the thing that been killing my soul more than all that is this little
Voice in my head telling me that my heart and soul ain't somethin
I can bring to church or work.
That God's a oversenstive model that can't handle
What I really think about her.  You know,
People don't like to see all that personal shit.
I've been lying to myself 'n God.
You know, I can be pretty good, I could convince most anyone,
Got the answers, know what there is to know.
And honestly I'm terrified that answers boy is gonna shut up the poet.
Concrete my eyes so that I won't ever be able to see the wind again,
Just mirrors and diagrams and smoke.
I can be pretty good, and the worst part is,
I convinced myself that I wasn't the bad guy at all.
That's when I started to fall.

The God I met is a lot more like a dragon than a dove.
Greedy, terrifying, awe-inspiring, beautiful.
And I'm gonna be honest, it's a lot easier for me to
Go before him when I'm not alone and I don't feel like a screwup, got my
Full armor against God on, all my good deeds, my list of sacrifices, and all my
Abstinences, it's all trash.
I'm still afraid that voice like thunder
Will burn me up in smoke.
And I'm not talking about Hell, I don't know nothing bout all that.
But I know I'm gonna get burned, by the hell within or the flames without.

I realized all the debaters were just talking themselves round in circles. 
That the best apologetics is probably just an apology.
I've been hesitant to put my pen to the paper because I'm afraid to do God an injustice
And I'm afraid that if you knew that I like God you won't like me.
All my prayers are like paper cranes with broken wings,
Ain't nobody flying if things left up to me.
But you know I realized that butterflies have been around a long time
They survived the dinosaur holocaust and
The wars and they're still flying and they're not
Even all streamlined like swallows for catching the breeze,
Just a two-dimensional piece of paper,
A simple kid like me.
And I realized that while perhaps putting too much of my fingerprints all over this thing
Could give it a broken wing
Faith ain't going anywhere,
The problem's always been me. 
And even when I shove my Bible to the back of the closet and stop
Praying, I know, and I know what I've seen.
It's hard to look a dragon in the eye and forget what you've seen,
It's hard to hold a hummingbird on your fingertips and not change.
It's hard to look in the mirror at me.
It's harder for me to not believe.