A String Or Ring Or Something
So time is none-existent...
by Dexsta Ray
Just with the symbol
Or the string which own the digits
To show commitment
I'm frozen on the sole condition
Clothed by the spoken
If that is mine, like caskets, my last subsides
With my only wishes
Baby, why it's
Fiction missing... I'm so bedridden now
And every other day, our home ain't even in the house...
To blame it on the distance
'less love is a
Cause in my brain it's unconditioned
Or my number ain't saved...
I'm crossing pages
Trying my best to get the lists completed
Sync, the wings of Christian phoenix gleaming
See it's 'need to know'
The devil sends whatever, mixed temptations
But I leave his show
To be his foe
Ever since my Savior did resist the satan
Walk into a place...
The only thing I'm thinking is your safety
Witchcraft is getting crazy and we're half within it's ranges
I get to praying...
Knowing everything ain't what it seems...
I was just a country stranger with a couple of dreams
Consider us a team
In conjunction with the real Light and the stuff it means
Loving truth in
Just enough, a string
I consider what it feels like if it doesn't gleam
'Cause just loyalty's enough to please
Even when there's struggles
You ain't got to question such a thing
So, yea, time is none-existent...
On the other
Though we shall divide upon the visit
We suffer needs
Infatuated with the spirit world
I lost my limits
Talking to the Lord all day and night exalting visions
Get your Spirit sword drawn to resolve contentions
God said I'll make it
He can't lie
Though I saw the trenches, satan dug
Ain't make it up, we're fated for
An awesome finish!
As I'm sitting down, listening, to your heart speak
Even when the time won't permit, I feel your heart beat
In the dark weeks... I get in my heart deep!
Bonded in the spirit, I ain't hearing you depart me!
O! Impart peace, a large piece, with a mark reached
It ain't hard to see the darts deplete by God's mighty hand
Consider this a token, wine is open
We won't fight
Take me by the star light gazing at the striking lands
All that is ours, God granted, showers