tell me there's room
Please, tell me there's room for me at the table;
tell me there's room at his feet.
And I don't mean the me that everyone else sees,
but the me that is hidden deep inside.
Please, tell me there's room for me at the table;
tell me there's room at his feet.
Though I've been broken and bruised, used and abused,
and so much remains yet to be healed.
Please, tell me there's room for me at the table;
tell me there's room at his feet.
There are things that I know and places I go
that surely leaves room to be questioned.
Yet please, tell me there's room for me at the table;
please tell me there's room at his feet.
For I've nowhere to go where I can behold
this glorious mess that is me.