I've never claimed to be perfect; never said I was squeaky clean
Youd on't know what I speak of? Peel back your mask, you'll see what I mean
I've slipped & I've fallen, let God down and myself time & time again
In my soul, I know I'm not that person, but yet I've embraced sin after sin
Like a runaway slave, trying to free myself in the middle of the night
But I just stay in these shackles though I really wanna see the light
I want to run, so free and never look back from whence I came
I'm tired of making my soul cry and bringing my life shame
How do I flee when I'm not even sure I really want to leave?
Do I just lay here, forsaking the truth and for my own life grieve?
And a voice spoke to me, 'My child, my child... run as far as you can see!!'
But what about these shackles I cry out! 'My child trust me, trust me!
I will, I will~ run free, run free, run free!
Copyright John Mark Brooks November 20, 2006
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