My voice, long muffled by evil hand;
With one intent –
Erase my voice,
The hand of evil my voice does cover;
Prohibiting its discover;
And nausea rises up in me;
Longing to purge
the pain stuffed down for, oh, so many years,
And, oh, so many tears;
Like regurgitating bile within.
Though nausea rises up in me,
wanting to be purged,
My voice awaits to be set free;
And flight given to all that is within me.
What wondrous things ahead do lie,
with this voice to be released?
What will it say?
What will it dream?
My Savior, My Father, set me free
To give my voice a place;
Rise up within me without disgrace;
There is impact to be made!
Impact to set the captives free;
But first to start with me.