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Firstborn Son
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Andrew Osenga
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I was the firstborn son of a firstborn son
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In the wake of family tragedy
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After fruitless years I was the chosen one
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To plant the flag of destiny
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To eyes who saw what they had seen
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I was a screaming, bloody symbol
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Of life and what it once had been
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Before the marching crush of evil
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I was the firstborn son of a firstborn son
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We prayed each night to the risen God
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For our loved ones health and safety
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Then we locked the doors and windows up
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So there was no danger and we were not free
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The big, bad world was on the hunt
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And its dogs were fixed on our scent
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Clouds of fear may block the sun
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Still the earth remains in orbit
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God, help the man who helps himself! He needs no other devil
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Give us courage now to say farewell to this fear and watch it crumble
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I've worked a job since I was twelve years old
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A student of the middle class of America
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Pull up your bootstraps, baby, you're on your own
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You are what you have and you don't have much
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The manna rained down from the sky
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And I looked for explanation
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Moses walked the sea bone dry
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In my father's generation
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And this firstborn son won't stop asking why
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Why!?!
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God, help the man who helps himself! He needs no other devil
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Give me courage now to face myself and dance as these walls crumble
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Torn down by the blood of a firstborn son
Sam and song crack up Senior Pastor John...
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