Tools of the Trade

My heart overflows with a goodly theme;
I address my psalm to a King
My tongue is the pen of a ready writer
Sense I expected Christ, my lyrics have gotten tighter
I metaphorically rise, a whole lot higher
With punch lines designed to spiritually inspire
The beat down, busted and tried
Yes, balled or flat
Like Mr. Goodrich, I pump em up and get em back on track
And I offer a life time warranty that keeps em eternally hitting me back
OMG is textually, penned up inside of me
Oh my Lord, got em begging for more and more
Tracked up and strung out on the Lord
He who loves the junkies and the whores
Multitudes and scores
Those that pretend to be good but are rotten to the core
Of the universe, thus I am compelled to rehearse
Lay 16 bars, over the wounded and the hurt
A bridge over the trouble waters of the church
Flowing righteously on every verse
So gifted, I don't need to curse
My lips have touched the hem of His shirt
Which hovers, not to far from the dirt
From which I came and will return
But before I go I must spit all that I've learned
Teach ya how to knit a soul together like, a Coki Sweater
Wear a coat of many colors, that's even better
For what is twisted, can not be made straight, without faith
In the Creator
No fear of the haters
The negativity of the nay sayers
I'm a dragon-ball-Z slayer
I love to play word games
Un-Scrabble your mind and heal your pain
Share a word that will free ya from guilt, condemnation and shame
Thou the tongue can never be tamed
Mine has be pierced and restrained
And ordered to appear before it's King
Untied and spitting
Over flowing with a Godly theme