bring this to the table, i say grace, thank you lord for this food,
i bend down on bended knees, as i whisper know i lay me down to sleep,
and i voice my thoughts of amen as the minister wait for a preach, go ahead know,
but if my neighbor ask me for a grain of salt, a cup of sugar, my mouth start to whisper a negative thought,
and the saint hood of my given is limited,
it does not practice what it preach and it gossips like the words that roll from my lips,
what a halo, what a faith beleiver,
and what is it in me not to say forgive me lord for my sins at the end of the day,
i have two shoulders and what speaks to me leads me not to my thought's but the thoughts of my downward faith.
i set in a sincer pose as i look at me in a mirror with a bible in my hand
