Show Lyrics

Redeemed Thought - Still In Motion
(from the album Truth, Beauty, Goodness)
© copyright 2005

I keep my eyes on the prize and my hands on the plow/
ĎTil my hands start bleeding, Iíma milk this cow/
My body is my slave and my God is my master/
Keep my eyes on Christ and stay from disaster/
I wonít stop and I wonít be moved/
I wonít stop and I wonít be moved/
Say it wití us yíall, I wonít stop and I wonít be moved/
I wonít stop and I wonít be moved//

Verse 1: Stephen the Levite
Yo, I strive for the mastery, temperate soldier slash athlete/
Crown incorruptible couldnít snatch it if you battle me/
My focus is locked; I donít shadow box, body check mate/
Stay on deck; Iím not Tom Hanks/
I cast away not my confidence/
But I count lost all godless nonsense and lawlessness/
To excel in my knowledge of Christ Jesus/
The rest is excrement in comparison test my thesis/
I wonít stop till Iím done; itís a marathon son/
March two thousand God shot the gun/
And Iím still running, poetry in motion, Godís poem/
Written before ďIn the beginningĒ and still composing/
Flowing in prose-march to the heartbeat of my God, wití energy, throwing them boís/
I breathe in my nose the Holy Spirit circulates regenerating me/
But still the fullness is released when I blow/
This world just doesnít the extent/
Of empowerment endowed in the Spirit of one, who represents/
Like a soldier with his mind bent/
Planning on saving the planet from sin, with or without a regiment/
Ready to die, agonizing for Adonai/
In the name of the Lamb who was slain, crucified/
For the lost, on the cross He crossed the finish line/
ďTetelestaiĒ so get caught up or get left behind.


Verse 2: muzeONE
Anchor to the soul, yo tsunamiís canít topple me/
Grounded on the rock, spirit locked down properly/
Key to ministry is broken heart and wet eyes/
My salvation draws nigh, keep my eyes on the skys/
Mary style kid, waiting for food, my spiritís hungry/
Tongue sung psalms all night long, worship is lovely/
Iím bugging b, catís is dying out there, Whoís Preachingí?/
Harvest whiter than vanilla ice, but no oneís speaking/
Iím reaching the depths of Godís great gifts/
If it breaks both my hips and leaves me walking with a limp/
Even if that happens Iíma grip his leg hard/
Because I wonít let go till Iím governed by GOD/
My squad stays positioned in the courts of the Lord/
Yo, weíre swinging swords leaving fat Philistines floored/
Hardcore, rush the door, snatch men from hellís gates/
Wrath packs enough weight to make the sane irate/
Waiting on the Lord like Pentecost, but keep a sound mind/
Power from on high showers on the hour to revive/
So, turn the furnace up, burn it 7xís hotter/
ĎCause my sin is consumed in the presence of the Father/
Even though itís blazing, I wonít come out/
Stay patient, keep waiting till the King calls me out!/
No doubt when Iím done Iíma be flaming red/
Wonít stop preaching till you cats throw a brick at my head.