You're drowning.
You're drowning in your unhappiness and you're drowning in your drinks.
You don't know what to do and I don't know what to do about it.
You're tired.
You're sick and you're tired.
Of being here.
What does "here" mean?
This house? Your house? This place? This life? Your life?
My heart isn't whispering.
My mouth, my lips--they have nothing.
But my heart screams.
It shouts.
And it's heavy because yours is.
And it's shouting to a place where I've heard lives a Man that hears its screams.
A Man that can fix.
A Man that can heal.
I know you know He's up there.
I just wish your heart would shout to Him,
instead of drown in the drinks.
I promise that whatever you're feeling,
I wish I would feel.
So that I could hurt with you.
So that I could heal with you.
So that I could understand you.
I love you, infinitely, I do.
And if my lips never say,
trust me,
my heart is always shouting.