Rake vs Shovel

There’s a line… Runs through everything… Preacher speaks of mercy, but his eyes don’t leave the ground Like he’s searching for a truth he’s too afraid to say out loud Every hand holds something, every grip’s a quiet plea Some are pulling in the thorns… some are cutting at the weeds I’ve been working in this garden, but I don’t know what I’ve grown Every root I tried to bury found its way back through the stone There’s a tool for every wound here, there’s a name for every blame But the dirt don’t care what story you attach to all your pain You can call it justice You can call it truth But it all feels different… From the inside of you Am I holding a rake… or a shovel in my hand? Am I tending the soil… or just judging the land? Is it light that I’m after… or a shadow to claim? Different tools… But the dirt feels the same There’s a woman in the corner, says the line don’t run between All the saints and all the sinners, all the wrong and all the clean Says it cuts through every living thing that ever learned to choose And the hardest ground to work is the one inside of you Am I holding a rake… or a shovel in my hand? Am I tending the soul… or just judging the land? Is it truth that I’m seeking… or a war that I wage? Different tools… Same earth, different names What I bury… Don’t stay gone… It just waits… Till I’m wrong…