Sunday, January 22, 2012

Isaiah 1:5-20

"The Prophet"

why do you want punishment?
must you rebel forever?
your head is hurt, your heart is sick
from head to toe you're covered
with cuts, bruises, wounds infected
your city's burned and neglected
abandoned like a watchman's shelter
left after the harvest is over

*your skin is dyed crimson
your mind is your only prison*

your sacrifice sickens me!
the fat from your goats and rams
the blood from your bulls and offerings
I've given you all I have!
but your incense burns my nose
and my voice, no one knows
I hate all your festivals!
they're nothing but a show
when you pray to me, I don't listen
you lift your hands but I turn away
they're covered with blood of the innocent
wash yourself clean of wicked ways!

*your skin is dyed crimson
your mind is your only prison*

come on now!
we'll argue this out
no matter how deep your stain
I'll wash it all away
from blackest black
to whitest white
please don't go back
I'll hold on tight

*your skin is dyed crimson
your mind is your only prison*

come on now!
we'll argue this out
no matter how deep your stain
I'll wash it all away!


~RileyVelvet