Profane

I'm not the one you've read about I'm not your sanctuary seat I'm not the one they've told you about I've never claimed to be of your belief

Yet the claims keep coming The elaborate stories When you dig up dirt it's your hands to be cleaned

And you are filthy from the grave you dig

I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock I am short a feathered wing for the flock But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness

I am not a hallow sound or a glorifying light of deeds And I am not a conscience found reciting lines down on my knees

And there's no mistaking all of you who fake it When you dig up dirt it's your hands to be cleaned

And you are filthy from the grave you dig

I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock I am short a feathered wing for the flock But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness

I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock I am short a feathered wing for the flock But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness, your weightless voices bearing witness

Can we not [7x] Divide?

I am not a barricade I'm just a different way to think So make no mistake I'm not your profane

I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock I am short a feathered wing for the flock But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness

I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock I am short a feathered wing for the flock But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness, your weightless voices bearing witness