Not Wasting My Time Songtext
It's time to jumpstart this party, wage a war on the authority of society's majority that's harboring a pejorative
underestimation of our predestination to fall flat on our faces in this cage of moderation that they lay at our feet in the street.
If you can't see it, you're knee-deep in the snare, sitting there in your chair.
Get up! Get your share of today!
Tear away, anywhere that they say you should be, stay away 'cause believe it or not, believers have got to be walking around in a world that's not known to be receptive but deceptive except for several agents of another world, aliens from another world, strangers to this fallen world, making way for the maker of a better world.
Take me to another world, making me a stranger no more, estranging me from the war.
No, no, no! I'm not wasting my time.
To the pilgrims, why don't you come to the feast and eat the beast at least to get out of the storm for a piece.
Now grace and peace be to the people who are seeking to see, believing to be beneath the bloody nails in the tree.
As they wander the streets and greet the people the meet, beneath their feet the fire's screaming, but they can't even feel it 'cause they're wearing the shield.
They know their covenant's sealed by the blood of the sweetest, prettiest lamb in the field, and they know it's real and they feel like their stealing home.
You know however low you go that you can always go home, like in the letter to Rome or in the book of the poems, it shows we're so below zero on the totem pole you know we're holding onto perfection, walking another direction.
Just a suggestion: give this section your undivided attention.
No, no, no? I'm not wasting my time.
Out of the shadows as are all our days on the earth, it's worth its weight in gold to wait and hold to promises perfect.
A servant who deserves no mercy but persecution and sentence on his knees in repentance for evil lurking within him is turning and walking a road.
He doesn't know where it goes.
He just follows and knows someone is calling him home.
All roads are leading to Rome except for this one he's on, and he's a stranger out of danger of the wages of wrong, and this world of hurting, perverted, deserting, should never unnerve the unworthy who burn in a needing to serve He who never deserts the person in need who believes in the word of the architect.
Let me genuflect in your general direction.
Let me introspectively soul inspect and redirect my steps.
Resurrect in me a need to be at rest in the peace that freely reigns over nations in patience, waiting, so plainly stating the way to be safe from these crazy games that they're playing.
I'm saying, stranger, it's raining, but don't dismay 'cause that's changing.
The Ancient of days is reigning, taking names, and He's saying
No, no, no? I'm not wasting my time.
underestimation of our predestination to fall flat on our faces in this cage of moderation that they lay at our feet in the street.
If you can't see it, you're knee-deep in the snare, sitting there in your chair.
Get up! Get your share of today!
Tear away, anywhere that they say you should be, stay away 'cause believe it or not, believers have got to be walking around in a world that's not known to be receptive but deceptive except for several agents of another world, aliens from another world, strangers to this fallen world, making way for the maker of a better world.
Take me to another world, making me a stranger no more, estranging me from the war.
No, no, no! I'm not wasting my time.
To the pilgrims, why don't you come to the feast and eat the beast at least to get out of the storm for a piece.
Now grace and peace be to the people who are seeking to see, believing to be beneath the bloody nails in the tree.
As they wander the streets and greet the people the meet, beneath their feet the fire's screaming, but they can't even feel it 'cause they're wearing the shield.
They know their covenant's sealed by the blood of the sweetest, prettiest lamb in the field, and they know it's real and they feel like their stealing home.
You know however low you go that you can always go home, like in the letter to Rome or in the book of the poems, it shows we're so below zero on the totem pole you know we're holding onto perfection, walking another direction.
Just a suggestion: give this section your undivided attention.
No, no, no? I'm not wasting my time.
Out of the shadows as are all our days on the earth, it's worth its weight in gold to wait and hold to promises perfect.
A servant who deserves no mercy but persecution and sentence on his knees in repentance for evil lurking within him is turning and walking a road.
He doesn't know where it goes.
He just follows and knows someone is calling him home.
All roads are leading to Rome except for this one he's on, and he's a stranger out of danger of the wages of wrong, and this world of hurting, perverted, deserting, should never unnerve the unworthy who burn in a needing to serve He who never deserts the person in need who believes in the word of the architect.
Let me genuflect in your general direction.
Let me introspectively soul inspect and redirect my steps.
Resurrect in me a need to be at rest in the peace that freely reigns over nations in patience, waiting, so plainly stating the way to be safe from these crazy games that they're playing.
I'm saying, stranger, it's raining, but don't dismay 'cause that's changing.
The Ancient of days is reigning, taking names, and He's saying
No, no, no? I'm not wasting my time.
Not Wasting My Time Video
