| Yea, who woulda thought I’d step inside this train station,
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| then get hit with some inspiration? |
| It’s amazin.
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| the most beautiful pieces of art come from the ugliest situations,
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| So I praise Him, rejoicin in my sufferin cause I know
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| He’s got a masterpiece in the makin,
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| and I ain’t scared of death nor Satan,
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| cause I know who’s hand that my name is engraved in,
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| this right here is a proper statement,
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| I am not the artist, I’m the canvas that He’s paintin,
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| like I remember last year bein homeless,
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| sleepin on the air mattress, but on the phone with,
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| three record labels, who to go with? |
| I notice,
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| you like to fix things with them tools that are broken,
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| so when them dark nights hit his soul,
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| I know enough to know to trust you with what I don’t,
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| Bad days, I suppose, too much for me to remember,
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| let me back up, I’m too close, now I can see the whole picture,
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| you make somethin out of nothin, nothin
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| you make somethin out of nothin, nothin
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| Sittin back meditatin on creation,
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| thinkin how you made everything out of nathan,
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| what a statement, you sustain it,
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| let there be, and there is, my brain can’t contain this,
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| that’s why the fame and the claim is so dangerous,
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| it’ll make a heart sing that my name is the greatest,
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| so, Josh, Rich, Ray, Alex, De,
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| call me to repentance if I ever go astray,
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| if that money ever get in the way, then I’ll burn it,
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| the price for my soul is something I couldn’t pay,
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| sometimes I read them articles believin what they say,
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| sweatin my own press, God is so unimpressed,
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| nah, I’m a mess, made out of dust,
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| to return to it upon death, my soul rests, and yet,
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| they makin heroes out of the ones who been rescued,
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| who cares if they remember my name if I forget you?
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| Bad days, I suppose, too much for me to remember,
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| let me back up, I’m too close, now I can see the whole picture,
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| you make somethin out of nothin, nothin
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| you make somethin out of nothin, nothin
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| Your egos nothin,
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| I’m nothin much, but He knows somethin, Exnihilo,
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| He’s next to zero,
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| He leans on nothin and nothin I want more than hear those trumpets,
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| no nothin I want more than to hear those trumpets,
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| my earlobes jumpin I feel so love sick,
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| lot of us got ideas but still no substance,
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| and a lot of times I can see it but the mirror don’t love Chris,
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| Bad days, I suppose, too much for me to remember,
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| let me back up, I’m too close, now I can see the whole picture,
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| you make somethin out of nothin, nothin
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| you make somethin out of nothin, nothin |