It's cold outside and my fire's gone
My girl is still two weeks from home
I've got nothing to do and nothing to say
But I never do, so anyway…
Maybe I'll just call the boys
We'll make some trouble
And we'll make some noise
Singing songs about how we feel
Hoping someday they'll become real
And I run to the arms of another song
Another story by a man who's dead and gone
When, when will I run
When will I run to the arms of God?
The prophet stood at the river's edge
He said “Children, come and cleanse your hands
You know what you did, you know how it felt
You can't run from Jesus or yourself.”
And I'm not the man I thought I was
I never did what I said I'd done
I'm scared of who I have become
But the prodigals are still your sons
And I run to the arms of another song
Another story by a man who's dead and gone
When, when will I run
When will I run to the arms of God?