There is always the need to cleans away dead leaves that are no longer
fulfilling the need of the vine it’s in
There is always a call to purge the thing that makes us fall
That clouds our sight from seeing the truth

To gain one must loose the thing or the person who is denying you
Denying you from being the you God made you to be
From flowing and soaring with ease as you pursue your destiny
So few know such life because they refuse to rid themselves of the dead, dying and defiled thing that’s in their hand

Like America
She has found herself bound with the putrid worship of man
Should she return, there must be a purge of the filth
that has rifted her soul
Brought turmoil
Angst with pain from the past
Drinking dregs of regret
Festing in the mess of relativity
Everyone doing what right “to me”

Unless we are purged by sufferings
By the lost of what we’ve been trusting
We will be damned to an eternal positioning
Never able to receive grace to be saved…

Purge me Lord
Purge the USA

Trouble is coming

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