Touch My Heart

Wondering if it's PTSD, it gotta be. Post Traumatic Slavery Disorder. Got Aiming for my ops, dissing the order. Pain fills my eyes, hard to see. You could walk the street, feel the air. This is oppression, continual depression. Prayer is what kept me, intercessors in my section. Call my prophets, when I can't see for me. Judgement is coming, awake oh Zion. Know I'm rolling with the conqueror lion, Judah! Jesus is my hitta, my shooter! Sleeping on His Grace is basura. I know I'm good, I'm just the passenger. Yahuah the driver, don't stop at all! Knocking down my goliaths, no matter how tall! Though many won't receive it but, Jesus is for all! Hook: I'm so up, Grace. Run this race, Faith. Trust His Will, Wait. Fill my soul, Hey. Show your face, Yea. Give me words, say. Touch my heart, pray. Sword in hand, slay.