St. Jude, Pray for Us Lost Causes, Now and at The Hour of Our Death

The weariness runs bone deep
And it doesn't seem to matter the amount of rest or sleep,
Because tomorrow will just be more of the same old shit
And I can't move forward but I don't wanna quit.
So I'm asking you to show me a path
And fill me up with hope.

They say that hope springs eternal,
But it never did here
And the hope has bled out of me down through the years.
Instead of hope what I feel is alone.
I keep calling but you won't pick-up the phone;
I don't deserve it, but I still need it.

On a hill far away, over the River Jordan,
In the sweet by and by, one bright morning,
Come now, angel band,
In the garden, in Beulah land:
Is Death the only hope there is?
Can't I be saved here and now from this?

The love of God resonates, but sanctification?
I know me too well to sing that song.
Friends have been hurt by The Church and decided to quit,
But there's something there amidst the hypocrisy
That I can't quite release and it's robbing me of my peace.
Does The Church still work if you're different and broken?

I've taken pieces from so many mosaics
That the picture I'm forming is random and chaotic.
I can't see what's taking shape before my eyes,
And every time I peek at someone else's homework
The answers look a lot different than mine;
I don't know what's ahead, but I keep trying.

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