Текст песни
She was born on Good Friday
I feel the warmth of heaven just dreaming of her embrace
I've been praying for my day
When I'm forgiven for being a loser
Refined by her fire, redeemed by her grace
Her warm loving grace
My soul knows her well and the facts are empirical
But my want of her is hell—unrelenting, unmerciful
My mind knows I'm wasting my time, won't ever be reciprocal
Yet my heart still prays for a miracle
I flew in late on Friday
Yes I'll be living here, tending all she holds dear while away
It's a blessing to serve her
She's my dear mortal goddess of morning
My hope for every new day
Yes my soul knows her well and the facts are empirical
But my want of her is hell—unrelenting, unmerciful
My mind knows I'm wasting my time, won't ever be reciprocal
Yet my heart still prays for a—
Late night walks in the rain
Winter carnival on Main
Trimming the tree to our favorite song
I'm her mixologist
She's my psychologist
We're almost all I've wanted all along
(So long... mercy!)
Yes my soul knows her well and the facts are empirical
But my want of her is hell—unrelenting, unmerciful
My mind knows I'm wasting my time, won't ever be reciprocal
Yet my heart still prays
While my soul and body ache
Yes my heart still prays for a miracle
For a miracle
For a miracle