645 & 179

The tongue only has what the heart can’t hold
But in spite of its efforts the heart’s unknown
Unmapped, untamed, and allergic to control
A broken window to the soul

Shattered glass where the thief crawls in
Mapping the course of a man’s motives
Then shackling him with a deity’s right
Freedom: the curse of old

Oh to be free
From the bondage of autonomy
The cure dressed up in the cloak of disease
The blind man hears what the deaf man sees
A trespasser of divine country

Per axiom the fruit’s beneath the tree
They both lay naked on the earth beneath
Acutely aware of their humanity
Freedom, the verses told

Oh to be free
From the bondage of autonomy
The cure dressed up in the cloak of disease
The blind man hears what the deaf man sees

Who is man to make his plans
Much less appropriate his rights
Sovereignty whispers in his ears
But God sets the limits of his life

Oh to be free
From the bondage of autonomy
The cure dressed up in the cloak of disease
The blind man hears what the deaf man sees

Oh to be free
From the bondage of autonomy
The cure dressed up in the cloak of disease
The blind man hears what the deaf man sees
The blind man hears what the deaf man sees
The blind man hears what the deaf man sees
A trespasser of divine country