C’mon God.
I’m here.
I’ve crawled through the filth, through the nights no one saw,
through the kind of storms that rip the soul out of softer men.
I’ve come this close.
This goddamn close.
Show me Your power.
Not the quiet Sunday kind.
Not candles and hymns.
I’m talking fire.
I’m talking walls coming down.
I’m talking a sign so loud the whole earth shakes.
Show me Your miracles.
Show me the path that was meant for a bastard like me—
born wrong,
cut from the cloth of rebels,
raised in chaos but too stubborn to stay on my knees.
Show me my destiny.
I don’t want safe.
I don’t want normal.
I want the whole thing—
raw, brutal, impossible.
I want to be the son of a bitch You send
when You’re tired of watching cowards run the show.
Make me a motherfucking maverick.
Your outlaw.
Your misfit.
Your sword in a world gone soft.
I’ll carry the weight.
I’ll take the pain.
I’ll pay in blood.
Just open the next door,
and watch what I do with it.