©2010 David Moody
My money will never make me wealthy
Just as my faith will never make me God
I’m with the doctor, and I’m thinking I’m healthy
He sees my chart and he says: “That’s odd…”
But I don’t want to know
In this crazy world we live in
Where some folks are never satisfied
They believe they’ll receive based on what they achieve
They want to take you on your final ride
But I don’t want to go
So, what’s your loco motive?
What drives your train of thought?
Who do you think will go to visit you
After you get caught?
I know you’re on a mission
Some twisted, deadly scheme
This whole world has been wishing
You’d awaken from this dream
You have the faith of a stranger