The Saints Fear What I Become

I was raised where the shadows sing, Where the preacher’s word don’t mean a thing. Every hymn I heard turned black with smoke, Every prayer I made came back broke. I don’t run, I don’t turn from none, The saints fear what I become.

The saints fear what I become, They bow their heads, they don’t speak my name. No light can follow where my shadow runs, The saints fear what I become.

I’ve seen holy men drink their shame, Watched angels weep but it felt the same. I don’t bend to a cross or crown, I light my fire and I hold my ground. When the night comes down, I don’t run — The saints fear what I become.

The saints fear what I become, They turn away when my work is done. No gospel saves, no hymn can shun, The saints fear what I become.

Every scar’s a scripture, every lie’s a hymn, Every sin’s a brother, and I ride with them. If grace is gold, I’ll spend none — The saints fear what I become.

The saints fear what I become, Their crosses shake, their choirs undone. I’m the shadow in the light they shun, The saints fear what I become.

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