I’d like to speak with you, if that’s alright
Thought I might find you here, where wasted youth lay near
Through all that’s insincere, into the quiet
With doves surrounding you, this mottled sky turns blue
And I’m at the altar
And I wake in pools of light
After our strange conversations that I hold into the night
Am I impatient with you? Am I too shy?
Must I confess to you? And scuff my oldest shoes
But even faith won’t soothe this ache tonight
So won’t you stay with me
Kneel down and pray with me
And I’m at the altar
And I wake in pools of light
After our strange conversations that I hold into the night
I’m on my own, at your feet again, your disciple
I’m on my own, on my knees again, your disciple
I’m on my own, at your feet again, your disciple
I’m on my own, on my knees again, your disciple, I
Won’t you fly?
Won’t you fly?