So here am I, this tangled mess of excuses
I’m so black and so full of abuses
God you say, “I will take all your faults, just be mine.
And this one thing i ask of you
just go, go, go”

So where do i go, where do I go into the night
with this cigarette lighter
I will go, God, just show me where.
I am not lazy, you’ve made me a fighter.
where do i go, where do i go

Somewhere in Africa, his face to the west,
a baby boy with a bloated belly – he’s suckling his mother’s dry breast.
where’s the hope? should he put his faith in politics, the UN, or just being free?
that boy’s hope is the God of love, the God who works through you and me.

So here am I, this tangled mess of excuses
I’m so black and so full of abuses
God you say, “I will take all your faults, just be mine.
And this one thing i ask of you
just go, go, go”

So where do i go, where do I go into the night
with this cigarette lighter
I will go, God, just show me where.
I am not lazy, you’ve made me a fighter.
where do i go, where do i go

Somewhere down in the alleys of New Orleans
a girl lies sleeping and dreaming in dirty torn jeans
And the drugs may be racing through her veins but inside her soul is crying
she’d give anything to be made whole, to find her life in someone else’s dying.

So here am I, this tangled mess of excuses
can this tool really work for these uses
God you say, “I will take all your faults, just be mine.
And this one thing i ask of you
just go, go, go”