My Father, my Father
My soul is weary
on contrary,
This is the season to be merry
Let me run with You
Let me hold the Gentle Dove’s hand
I as fly through this storm with You
Let me sing the song of love
You’ve fitted me tight in Your hand like a glove
Oh! my God
It’s the night hour
Devourer sits right over my head to see what he may devour
I am just tired of the perpetrator
Perpetrators sent by satan to perpetrate lies
I know that he is there
A wicked man sent to instill fear
He is pulling remote control of that silent trigger
Men and women sent to commit murder
Human beings without conscience or fear of the Living God
Hired assassinators that have chosen Satan lord
