So you've been haunted by your history.
We hope your horrors find their comfort in the cold.
And if Jesus can really walk, he said
then let him carry his own cross,
because I'm letting grace absolve everything it can.
You're seeing ghosts in
your hallway mirror
while you wrestle flesh and blood,
and you, you've let your hatred rhyme with love.
If you can hear me then don't let go.
You can't always mend, but you can hold.
And sober isn't everything
when you're searching for a door that opens in.
Hope hides in the smallest forms.
We're paralyzed by all your love.
You're singing, "Oh, what a beautiful stranger I've become,"
and I'll stare until this reflection is overcome
in your hallway mirror.