Confession. (I love Scatteredtrees.)

Jesus, help me now: I'm writing songs that I didn't plan to write until I conquered 22... or maybe 23. I bring these to You now with hopes to sort them out somehow with words now placed into a melody. (You know exactly what I mean.)

So I'll drown desire for I musn't lose composure. I won't stoke the fire because You're my only resolution.