Profane

I'm not the one you've read about, I'm not your sanctuary seat
 I'm not the one they've told you about
 I've never claimed to be of your belief
 Yet the claims keep coming
 The elaborate stories
 When you dig up dirt it's your hands to be cleaned
 And you are filthy from the grave you dig
 I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock
 I am short a feathered wing for the flock
 But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness
 I am not a hallow sound or a glorifying light of deeds
 And I am not a conscience found
 Reciting lines down on my knees
 And there's no mistaking
 All of you who fake it
 When you dig up dirt it's your hands to be cleaned
 And you are filthy from the grave you dig
 I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock
 I am short a feathered wing for the flock
 But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness
 I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock
 I am short a feathered wing for the flock
 But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness
 Weightless voices bearing witness
 Can we not, can we not
 Can we not, can we not
 Can we not, can we not
 Can we not divide?
 I am not a barricade
 I'm just a different way to think
 So make no mistake
 I'm not your profane
 I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock
 I am short a feathered wing for the flock
 But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness
 I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock
 I am short a feathered wing for the flock
 But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness
 Weightless voices bearing witness