Mouth Of The South - Convictions

This place is not my home
It wasn’t ever meant to be
I’m still searching
I’m still searching
I’ve been held back, I’ve been shut down
But I am not dead yet
I’m still swinging and I’m still holding on to hope

I’ve been clinging to the edge with just my fingertips
And I’ve been praying to God: "Don’t let me lose my grip"

I will not fall

I will never compromise my faith
I’m holding firmly to the truth and I will not back down

This life has drained me dry
And though my flesh is weak and broken
My soul will never die
I will not settle for what this world has
I’ve danced with the devil in hell and I will not go back
I’ve found myself in the one who calls me son
Take me home, God, let your kingdom come

This place is not my home
I was born for the less traveled road
I’ve got a lot of growing left to do
But I swear that I will see this through

I’ve felt the weight of the world crash down on me
I’ve been to hell and back and I’m still breathing
I’ve screamed my lungs out and displayed my flaws
But I find rest in the arms of God

No roots, no place to call home
I’m a wanderer, vagabond, I’m bread for the road
No roots, no place to call home
I’m a wanderer, vagabond, sustained by God alone