Return Return

by David Bowden Poetry

  • Streaming + Download

    Download includes the full album:

    1. In Prologue
    2. Excommunication
    3. I Do
    4. Jeremiah 7
    5. Return Return
    6. Oh God! (Psalms 61 & 13)
    7. To Cease
    8. The Libel
    9. Unity
    10. I Remember
    11. In Epilogue

    God's forgotten love story, told in four parts. This constantly moving and evolving album paints a beautiful, haunting, and challenging picture of God's relentless love and Man's unstoppable apostasy. Incorporating music into his poetry for the first time, David Bowden explores the many faces of the church as a harlot bride, a lost traveler, a disembodied entity, and a inevitably victorious body. This album spans multiple genres from acoustic folk to straight rock to digital ambiance. The poems cover joy, victory, remorse, lament, and hope. David's letter the the church at large is convicting, yet inspiring. As hard as it may be to hear, let's hope we all listen.
    ... more

      $10 USD




released April 11, 2011

All poems written and performed by David Bowden
"Oh God" feat. Taylor Walling
Drew Chancey - piano, guitar, synth, midi
Keith Ellingson - guitar, vocals
Matt Chancey - drums
Brett Vanderzee - guitar, vocals

Recorded and Engineered by David Bowden and Drew Chancey
Produced by David Bowden and Drew Chancey
Album Art by - Kyle Turman



all rights reserved


David Bowden Poetry Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

David Bowden started writing his first poems at 19 after an encounter with God on a road trip to Chicago. Since then he has been using spoken word poetry to exalt the Bridegroom and beautify the bride. David currently pastors a house church under and within Bridgeway Church in Oklahoma City, where he lives with his beautiful wife Meagan and cat Dexter. ... more

contact / help

Contact David Bowden Poetry

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: Excommunication
Creation was words before it was earth and sky
Spoken construction created by
tongue flung hammers, jammed into rows of enamel nails,
rammed by blows through two panels of two by fours
Forerunning the forests
Preceding the trees
Foregoing the gulfs
Predating our predecessors
The earth was in quake and speech was its epicenter

Strung together words
Sung from heavens perch
An unknown language speaking a universe into birth
The vocabulary of formation
Nature’s first verse

Seed planted vowels
Buried in chanted nouns
Enchanted consonants
Implanted continents
Third person subjects with
Confirmed predicates
“It is good”
The affirmed sentence

With terms he sent his semblance
Spoke his essence into presence
The entrance of presents the exit of severance
Creation accepted the precepts of his utterance
In the utter annunciation of his fertile discussions
The discovery of humanity, the need for penance
“It is very good”
A life sentence

Words created creation with the intent of good
Creation berated the words by doing not what they should
The creator paraded creation out of the word rooted woods
Now all creation is gated, and the word is misunderstood

Exiting conversation’s commune
First, extracted from communication
Then, excluded from communion

Those ancient words that animated sand to man
An initial conversation with uncreated tomorrow
The first solo song, unwritten monologue
They grow louder in our mother’s womb
The dirt of our conception
The garden of our groom
A concept rises in concert
Concentrating its sound through centuries of trees, generations of streams, decades of seas
Eden screams

Her labor pains, her exaction
Her beckoning, her contractions
Her water breaks, her reaction
Her sea section, her extraction
Her christening, her transaction
Her betrothal, her attraction

Infants of the garden
You hardened orphans of the tree
You were born of an artist
Spoken poetry

Hear the singing soil, every gene is his
Skin made through sentences, our genesis
Now in our womb we must toil, from our origin we exited
The fabled hidden grove
Children of the Exodus
Track Name: I Do
My undying bride, I’ve memorized
The night of our covenant, the day of our betrothal
You walked down the aisle
Full of faith, null of blame
You even fell to your face, as you approached the alter
Faltering not, but altering your approach
Not above reproach, but not wanting to encroach too quickly upon the beauty of our matrimony
The ceremony felt so natural
The presiding night sky officiated the proceedings
The assembly dressed finely as the shore, and shone as distant suns
I wrote my vows on the numberless stars and countless sands
Placing on hands a token of flesh, our rings of a certain size - our offering
The twilight minister opened his mouth
“Do you solemnly swear to
carry this covenant
To be one – a people and a father
A breath and a life
A keeper and a follower
A husband a wife
Through toils, strife and unseen infidelities
To lands of fornication
Distant nations of adultery
Do you solemnly swear
To follow each other there?”
We declare, “I do”

Oh bride of the garden
I made a promise
To be your God
And make you my goddess
You ask in your shame
Will he love me the same, though I’ve been untrue
Will he give me his name
I will and I do

You turned to me
Our consummation consumed a nation’s army in its depth
Our honeymoon stepped through death to life on dry ground
Our pledge plodded into the Promised Land
We prodded prodigal man’s riches into our clutches
Our love was a prodigy, none could understand, but began
Prompting trials through the judges
Our journey became a chronic chronicle of packing and unpacking luggage
When you endured pain’s touches and the way was obscured my strength allured you, but
When your wealth was assured and your boarders secured you were lured away from me, into idolatry
Lusting after kings
Undressing for gold
Bearing your chest
Opening your legs
For a foreign guest
I witnessed it all
You sprawled out for other gods
Other lovers, other frauds
Running from bed to bed
Land to land
Man to man
God to god
Snare to snare
You ask me, “Do you dare follow me there”
I declare, “I do”


You returned to me
We turned to building our dream home, roamed from Bethel
Head stones turned to corners and pillows to a temple
Our abode was restful
Yet we began to wrestle, I guess that’s why I call you Israel
For our love is a struggle
You smuggled other lovers into our humble home
Dressing them up in my clothes – I’m pacified
It was all too real, but you both faked it – You’re gratified
Selling yourself to the highest bidder – Classifieds
I longed for intimacy, but you were already satisfied
You ratified your dressed-up harlots
Calling them
Praise and Worship
Religious equipment
Dogmatic enlistment
Naming them worthy of my name’s employment
You ran after creeds and security
Doctrines and rigidity
Rigidly quoting your prayers
You ask me, “Do you dare follow me there”
I declare, “I do”


You returned to me
I poured out my blessings equally across your blessed curves and deformed torso
I took you home, leveling hills and valleys so none were more so
Morsels, I gave you as morals: just right. Never too little or more than enough
But my portions were never enough
You forced out equality
For four course blessings
Enforced poverty, building fraudulently endorsed armories
Outsourced charity, for horse drawn chariots
You traded the poor
Trained for war
Strained for glory
Abstained from my adoring
Pouring yourself into riches
Adorning yourself with splendor
Abhorring my selfless wishes
Ignoring your rewarding as my heir
You ask, “Do you dare follow me there?”
I declare, ”I do”

Track Name: Jeremiah 7
Jeremiah 7

Hear the word of the Lord all you citizens of the sitting lineage.
Listen all you Christians of the fitting-in traditions.
For the Lord has spoken.
Open your ears my heathens!

Pay Attention
to the condition
of your religion
that has taken position
over your mission
as my children

Your buildings are rebuilding a nation of accepted sedation
sedimentary demonstrations of comfortable admiration
a civilization of neglected realizations
neglecting to realize that all your worship’s comprising
is the disgusting disguising of your commitment’s demising
I brought you out of sin with the blood on my son’s skin
Again and again you sought him to restore ya
But your likeness is like that of Sodom and Gomorrah

I have had my fill of your songs
I long for your hearts
I find no thrill in belonging
to the screen art
backlighting your hymns
My ears rise to the brim with promises
But I want your body’s sacrifices
My eyes are blind with churches
all the same, no revolutionary versions
Your Sundays are a burden
You hide behind the curtain
of worship and feel certain
that your prayers, songs, and sermons
will be heard
that maybe I preferred
to be given your words instead of your person
but your blurred worship is persistent

Oh my Christians!
When did Christ become a figurehead instead of a commission
When did my son become flatbread instead of a mission
When did his blood become imbedded in dead prayers instead of spreading you into submission
When did his cross become something printed on thread instead of imprinted on your vision
Your missing the point if
attending, seating, listening, and repeating
is the joint efforts of your
effortless anointing
I don’t want to disappoint
all those who thought
getting baptized and being churched
would comprise the proper work to prove your worth
but I have searched the earth
and when you’re not hiding in your Sunday shirt
or your Wednesday skirt
you look the same as every unconverted
person who flirts with the comforts of selfishness and inverted shame
It does not matter if you claim my name
because the fact of the matter is that you all look the same
The pagans the Christians
The tainted the sinless
The saved and the sinners
The saints and imprisoned

You are in prison
my children
Your comfort is your bars
Your traditions your cells
Your boredom is your punishment
and your minds are your jails
Don’t you remember?
I freed you with nails
broke the bars, opened the cells
But you just sit in your chains
spend your days in an open grave
I raised you from death but you live the same way

Oh my unfaithful bride!
I have loved you before time began to wind
Behind your creation are lifetimes of preparation
I created you to be mine
From the Egyptians I saved you
I kept you in mind
From your hypocrisy I braved your
commitment’s decline
I traded the life of the divine
for the strife of a slave
I stayed by your side when you punctured mine
Sent me to the grave
I forgave you and your kind
Generation after generation generating the same replays
And today you
deny me still
Your lips lie with what they say
your tongue deceives with great skill
You fill pews to prove what your life fails to
Do something more than sit still
You kill me again
when you refuse to begin
living as I did
when I spent
my life with you

There will be no redemption for you
if you don’t do as I implore you

But don’t doubt that I adore you
Our reunion is overdue
I long to restore you
Create something more for you
Relate to your core
and not just your core values
For you are more valuable to me than doctrines, statements, or creeds
Your faith in me means more than
verses or beliefs
attendance or deeds
whether you fail or succeed
I will speed to your every need
Just please
Stop all the pretending
Stop using me for salvation and
and on it start depending
Stop lending me an hour a week
and hourlessly when your weak
start spending time on your knees
Take my power into the streets
Heal and nourish the least
Bless every enemy
and know
that as long as you are loving them and loving me
There is nothing else I could ever seek

Hear the word of the Lord all you citizens of the sitting lineage.
Listen all you Christians of the fitting-in traditions.
For the Lord has spoken.
Open your ears. For this message hasn’t been spoken for years.
And if you miss it when it’s this clear
And let it just disappear
What will be your hope when you’ve learned God’s word was sincere?
Track Name: Return Return
Boom Clap Clap

Return Return

this inconsistent rhythm delivers the dissonance I wrestle with through the pounding feet and clapping palms of an out of step race

that’s the skin covered, bone laden, muscle jointing soul bearing race we call human
and we march to a beat that doesn’t sound right

just left-right-left-right-wrong-write-song-bout-left-and-gone-right-to-fight-what’s-left-from-right-that-on-and-on-sight

return return

we slithered east from Eden’s bride defy-ing our natural habitat of leaf and vine for human sacrifices and crying blood – bloodied sacrifices unhuman, always divine

we are the cities of Cain, building vertically our offerings of canned vegetables, much like the upward scale of cannibalistic unmentionables who’s flesh feeds corruption’s mouth

return return

to the first booming clap of clapping plans

boom clap clap

cries the scraps of lands

we are the green movement who farms amnesia gardens, forsaking the beds on which the heavens used to plough

now we clash with creation like these stomps with my sounds, because we all live like we won’t be kept by the grounds like we aren’t slaves to our hands

boom clap clap

cries the scraps of lands

weeping widows of soil and sun, heaving limbs on un-cursed figs, uncured predicament, predicative predictions of what would have been “In the beginning”

if the created would have listened to the booming clap of clapping demands

boom clap clap

cries the scraps of lands

boom clap clap

cries the scraps of lands

boom clap clap

cries the scraps of lands

boom clap clap

return return to beginning’s design, cries the inevitably forgettable regrettably inevitable grave, never benign - rewind

boom clap clap

return return to the tree, to forbid yourself of bitten fruit – fast, and feast on the afterbirth of your aborted self-inseminated root – reboot

boom clap clap

return return to the dust, eat and be filled as the serpent, crawl in the wombs and tombs you circumvent – rework it

boom clap clap

re re return – we we we were out of step with natures metronome, who clicks 1 2 3 4 5 6 then rests on the 7th

Boom clap clap
Return return…
Track Name: Oh God! (Psalms 61& 13)
61 & 13:
Oh God!
My body crumbles before you
My crying and bumbling pours out like waves bowing as shores do.
I lap up oceans of gasoline
seas of kerosene
Transforming words into sparks
thus igniting a beacon of faith in the dark
May I be aromatic as you listen
to my enigmatic transmission
my tongue burns as incense, rolling in
my mouth’s insisting wet blanket
making unmentionable motions
I’m blowing smoke.
You hold me like water in open hands rushing
endlessly down the channeled beds in
your palms, watering the garden of your amnesia.
Your hand has undergone anesthesia.
You prolong the pain, refusing to seize me as a skeptic
Refusing to provide antiseptic
to my wounds
I sing the right tunes
Countless sins I refuse
Abstaining from boos, drugs, and tattoos
Yet you leave no clues
of your existence
This is my last prayer of insistence
that you break through the mystics
or my persistent prayers
and distant stares
will no longer employ this body’s assistance
Sometimes I forget that
I’m just blowing.
13 & 61:
out the chimney in the house of your trinket
may my exhalations be fragrant
Naked you see me
no amount of promising
could instill in you a favoring
Instead you need
only my vow to be
betrothed to you now
bowing in my infancy
cowering at your infinite affinity for a recanting truth
for I can’t see where lying while lying at your feet gotten me to
Flagrant oaths be forgotten
a Vagrant’s home like a promise
It won’t keep
61 & 13:
enough I’ve waited
craning my neck
crinkling my eyes
But your disguise of darkness
the 4-wall lies of your existence
the fiction religion of your insistence
this long distance adoption from an unseen father
this emptiness I auction off to the highest bidding caller
no longer will I bear the weight of your silence
I can’t stand to wait for you to revel yourself to retracted eyelids
I can’t keep on chanting a song about a God to whom I belong
If you can’t give up a breath, sigh, or yawn
for me to hold on to
Much like a life that has done no wrong
such innocence
won’t keep
13 &61:
is the empty wall between your lips and earth’s puckered kiss
but no distance will provide sufficient resistance
to the ballistic sound of my crying enlistment
into the ranks of your ears
Years may pass without one hint of your existence
but relentless to adore you, relentlessly I’ll endure your silence
twilight messages I’ll massage out of the passages of my mouth
spouted out incantations, blessed by my tongue’s demands
pressed into hands, whispered into breaths and
blown to the wind
When will my head and heart
brain and bowels
intelligence and emotion
stop wresting with the fact that the words
whispered within the rounds of hopeful prayers
and disappointed stares at an invisible in-visitable friend
are simply
blown to the wind

13 & 61:
Day after day sorrow borrows hope from tomorrow
and the rays of today’s interest swelter the shade
and I have no shelter
61 (at the same time):
but you are my shelter

For your sake I forsake all foreign foretastes of dangers forebaders
For in you and your name lies a fortune of fortitude
I’m fortified in forgiveness
Forged in your form
The foreman of forever
61 & 13:
I’m burning
my eyes at the wick
last ditch seers
wax tipped tears melting
cylinders of hope: self-devouring
betrothed to the smoke of my incinerated dowry
Hourly I crawl to you
I weep on our bed of vows
wetting the feathered pillows of your wings
covered by steel sheets on a metal mattress
My master, mistress, and fortress
I rest on
61 &13:
hide in darkness.
Enlighten my eyes
Give light to disguise
Make light of the lies of your silence
Look on me!
13 &61:
my one request
arrest my life in your love
resist the death in me today to live another one
that for the rest of my days I may quest to sing
the praise of

61 & 13:
your name.
is poison on my lips
though it slays me I will continue to sip
the farther you hide the deeper I drink
the darker my eyes the longer I sink
into the death of our life together
13 & 61:
For your love is never failing
and this affair keeps me
ever wailing.
13 & 61:
Track Name: The Libel
"The saints are wholly bible”, thus saith holy Libel
“Your idle gods are born of ink and translation’s inclination.”
“Your idol of deity is forged of your idea of ideology.”
“An ideal theology you’ll reap from nurture’s seed.”
“But the real doxology sings from nature’s tree.”

the Libel taught, “She is caught in a paradox. The guide and the guise, the law and the lies, the rules are a ruse to ruin the truth.”

holy Libel bemuses good news
amuses unconventional views
abuses the traditional muse
confuses intentional bruises

the Libel I will speak, for she needs to be heard
her rigged curves of language are dangerously blurred
we’ve curdled milk to cubed cheeses
and honey into single servings
the word is surviving but not through those whom its serving

the Libel’s sermon is continuing, “ the words written in testaments were never meant to serve as a test for men, but as a testimony of a man who gave his holy life for them, yet only since its been written in these hallowed words by hollow hands, about the hollowed hands of the only hallow man, have countless men been driven to an un-intentioned end:
separating limbs
generating fibs
entertaining entertaining whims
desecrating hymns by calling them his
if what was written was written by him than what we have in writing we have no part in. But what we have in writing we must take part in. Instead of just leaving it in writing.

holy Libel is speaking, “your service, its reeking of public speaking, public drinking, public reading. I dare to say the only reason for your service is public seeking.”
the Libel is reaching, “ I’ve read your Bible, I know your god, I’ve walked your aisles, I’ve been a fraud. But then I found deep in the law, a message no word could flaw.”

“I will be your God and you will be my people. A real God uncontained by steeples. A real God unrestrained by the legal. A real God not renamed by his people. A real God not relocated under a steeple. A real God. A real God. A real God. A real God.”
Track Name: Unity
One mountainous olive night I heard a hope song pour out like sweat drops of blood upon a martyr’s thorny brow; who knew the last wish of a dying son would be to make one where are found two and to undo the endless multiplication of multiple denominations creating crippled factorizations from fractions of a people like a pinkie faction who claims control of the whole person’s actions
One rung the bell for all to be one called unity where you and me find harmony in between the endless schemes of differing things we see as disjointing because we all just need the same blood stained tree
As I stood listening to my saviors forgotten prayer all the religious buildings started to stare and the steeples raised their voices, and the church bells rang their noises, and the marquees raved their choices they all sang to me the same song just in different keys, and the dissonating made me dizzy
Soon the flickering lights gave way to dissipating sights. I laid down, flat and fetal, on the old wooden road.
And I dreamed…
I saw sick congregants congregating for remedies found feigning family values refraining from mansions now meeting in meager houses, the church took up its spouses on street corners adorning the mourning with a unified message of hope, found fellowshiping in the cozy cushions of hearts where there is never a need for a bigger building or budget because love can house the universe
I saw these forsaken fortitudes of mistaken platitudes transformed into real houses of praise – now used for homeless shelters, adoption centers, rehabilitation clinics, food pantries, and art galleries filled with interracial paintings of full circle peace signs
I saw denominational marquees reprieved and their metal was beat into ploughs and trowels for the new compost garden out back
I saw bullion laid communion trays shipped off to Cash for Gold to get appraised and the money raised went to buy bread and wine for the lame and blind – they called that night their first Lord’s Supper
I saw a body that convinced unbelieving eyes, but not by cleverly-clad argumental sentiments or intellectually-gad doctrinal prods seeking tenements, but by their meagerly-glad confessional intimate love for one another
I saw millions raised for buildings used for dying civilians instead of new youth pavilions
I saw apostles admitting apostasy to their 1-800 hot lines and 4 digit prisons, as they started spitting the spirit’s salve into mud mixing the medicine of Messianic blind better cream – free of charge and free of commitment
I saw prophets prodding the pockets of suburbanite nonsense spending, redistributing lending to oppressed widows with widowed orphans collecting widower tears in clear cherry jam jars taking them one by one to the pearly gates of partiality parliament slowly building a monument for begotten change like a new Vietnam Memorial of forgotten names
I saw evangelists being Jesus instead of selling salvation and telling everyone how to be the church instead of which church to go to
I saw pastors shepherding the wounded sheep instead of bickering over budgets
I saw teachers enlightening minds at Starbucks and standing up in movie theatres to speak to crying souls
I saw congregations worshiping God instead of worshiping with or without instruments
I saw church attendance signs replaced with mirrors, so we could all be reminded of what the church really is
I saw stained glass windows shattered to make room for more doors
I saw communion tables standing outside expensive restaurants, reminding everyone of the price paid for our ultimate forgotten feast
And I saw the face of Jesus contently contained upon each and every set of eyes who accepted me just as I am, and upon every tongue that urged me to become holy like my God.
I saw unity in the body of Christ
And then I woke up
I felt the warm skin tenderness of Christ’s body, though tired and worn, broken and torn, aborted yet perpetually born. I was swept up in a dream that I know could be our present reality because I’ve seen what the body was given to achieve. And with you by my side reaching into his, together we may die to the lies of what “church” is. Now we have the opportunity to be broken on the olden tree, like the given son did when he said it was done. And I know what we have to do in order to reach a communal feast. We must break our bodies to pieces to bring the pieces of his body to peace.
Track Name: I Remember
I remember

I remember
who we were before this moment

I remember
the shadow of ourselves
now overshadowed by
the shelves
on which we placed
our former selves

I remember how
each of us here
placed our past
in tears
upon tiers of them
never to be touched again

I remember
how we approached God
hands empty
plans empty
demands empty
like we’re supposed to be
emptying ourselves
on those shelves
of our lives preceding
this moment
where, once and for all,
we put to death our
superficial worshipping
And this
Is it’s eulogy

Remember with me

I remember when God was idle
American made an
American idol
Idly laid on hymn song titles
Tidal waves of tidy Sunday
Bridal Singers
Made their way to
Display Charades.
We were all
Costume swingers
Wore lips like
but we were all
One day
of the
poorest Savior
War Ships of
ignored trips
Equipped with
For this
Event called

I remember
what church used to be
Sit, sing, sit, sip, sit, silent, sermon then
from a word prearranged
to a world unchanged
our despair unnamed
our problems deemed deranged
and we were estranged
in the exchange
of our time and expectations for
prewritten lines and explanations
about guys, whys, and places
that never addressed
our ache for a real God

I remember when
worship was a period of time
outlined by bulletins
bullied out by the
“Not this again”

I remember when
worship was protected
by walls and directions
I remember
the decorations
the song books
the screens
the long looks
at my jeans
the routines
the bowing
the closing
the opening
the spouting
off of words and notes
that never broke
through the wall
standing tall between
us and a god who’s
reality we could never recall

I remember it all

I remember when worship was
contained by fear
restrained by years
of traditional rearing
rules never spoken
but somehow never broken
we were
token children
of an understood system
fearsome that we might become
too radical to
prevent our selfish intent

I remember
what worship was before this moment

I remember
how we were all under the persuasion
of evasion
evading any invasions
of commitment, discomfort, or costly
we followed
the equation
me + church – cussing, sex, and alcohol = salvation

I remember
a time when I
would shout
“He is alive!”
and not one mouth
would scream
at the pronouncement
it seamed
no one
was out,
but were streaming
back to their hiding places
where worship’s
and singing’s
and no one
is reckless
enough to stand
on a corner
or in the corner store
to sit with the homeless
or out their homes front door
and sing louder than a motor’s roar
“How Great is our God”

I remember when
all of us were frauds

I remember when
the only form of worship we knew
was what we did
following motions on motionless pews

I remember when praise
had nothing to do with the other six days

I remember when
we forgot the Sabbath was for resting
and the rest of the week
was for working

I remember when
the only service we worked
was the service in church
When worship that was pure
Did not feed the poor
Saw itself as the cure
Cared for its enemy’s needs more than yours
Found the sick, dying, and lost and with them endure

I remember when
worship was a chore
When we all felt secure
just attending
but that was before
we realized
there is so much more
than pretending

But right now in this moment
as the saints are gathered round
and our God is present
and His son takes president
and His spirit’s our resident
we are within the descent of the triune
peasants in the tribunal land
and as we all stand
together repentant
grasping hands in our communal commitment to
clasping our plans to the eternal command
of what he meant for worship
and this is it
our opus
our openness
our hope is
our hopelessness
in everything we used to
hold as his
scope for what
worship is

Worship is love

I remember when he said
Love is the opposite
of getting
but sacrificing everything
dying, while living

I remember when
Jesus embodied it
his body embarked from
heavenly contentment
becoming this tent
of existence
God was a servant
The heavens observant
to humanity’s torment
Creator tormented
creation tormentor
And that’s the intent
of this event called worship

Worship is a cross
Worship is a loss
of everything that is not
embossed with the seal of God

So in this moment and every moment hereafter
Our praise of God will shake roofs and the rafters
Our praise will be aloof from the world and filled with laughter
Our praise will ruthlessly peruse a world filled with disaster
Our praise will unashamedly bear the proof of our master
For here in this moment and every moment hereafter
Our praise will not be contained by
walls and churches
alter calls and holy perches
busy malls and facebook searches
school halls and worldly diversions

Our praise will bleed into all our excursions
it will break free
stained glass
bible class
it will surpass
golden and brass
communion passing
trays to the next passive guest
it will clash
with standards
and traditions
for our praise
will live worship
as a mission

Now in this moment and every moment that proceeds
our praise will
flood the streets with song
shed blood for the needy and suffer along
give love to the enemy regardless of their wrongs
place above ourselves the least of these and with the weak be strong
For we will be the worshippers the father seeks, and he will have to search no longer

For Father we are your worshipers
Your unworthy dancers
we are your priasers
your passionate romancers
And now we stand before you and say
Worship is not what we sing but how we obey
And now we stand before you and say
Worship is not what we sing but how we obey
And now we stand before you and say
Worship is not what we sing but how we obey
And now we stand before you and say
Worship is not what we sing but how we obey