I’m fluent in pain; my sins I disdain
I’m covered in shame, but Yah I’m calling your name
I’m flowing against the grain;
I’m sick and tired of this game.
I turn my back to the fame.
My insecurities tamed; my pride and arrogance trained,
But Yah they’re one in the same.
Keep me away from the flame.

I’m fluent in pain.

And behold, the poor man outside of the gates
begging for bread from the rich man's plate.
And behold, these souls walking by
who avert their eyes to the poor man's cries. 
And behold, how few of them see: 
if you do wrong to him, you do it to me. 

Behold, how few of them see:
if you do wrong to him, you do it to me. 

I’m sick at the door; I’m limp on the floor.
My pain they ignore;
The dogs are licking my sores,
And my whole life is a chore
To ease the burdens I bore.
When will I get my reward?
If my salvation is sure, ’til then I keep my rapport.
I’m calling out to you, Lord.

I’m calling out to you, Lord.

Voici l'homme qui reste aupres de nous 
Et voici l'homme que appelle Dieu, O Dieu!
Que mon âme êtreprès de vous!
La vie, ce n'est pas facile... mais!
Je mets toute ma confiance en toi-- en vérité.

*hums y chantant*

Y este hombre, pobre que
Necesita la comida, pero
Todos lo pasan-- estan camiando...
Quien? Quien puede ver?
Que Dios también creó el hombre a ser. 

And it came to pass that the beggar died,
and was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom.
The rich man also died and was buried;
And in hell, he lift up his eyes, being in torments,
and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom.

And he cried and said, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me!
And send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water
and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame!”

But Abraham said, “Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things? But now, he is comforted and thou art tormented.”

Luke 16:22-25

Fluent in Pain

Poem, by Jermonté
Peace & Poetry

Selah.

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