I feel some kind of spirit move me,
There’s something I have got to say.
Could be complaint or comedy;
I’ll blurt it out either way.
I’ll make sure the kids don’t hear me,
Wait until the prudes go away-
Then inspiration strikes me
And I ask, Will it pray?

Can I take these silly sentences,
Can I make them talk to God?
Do I think he’d laugh along with me
And give me a wink and nod?
Would it sound completely natural
Or as a prayer would it be odd?
Perhaps I’d better think again:
My spirit may be flawed.

I feel a song well up inside me,
There’s something I have got to sing.
It’s got a catchy melody,
It’s got guitar solos that zing,
It’s got a lot of sex appeal,
It’s got guns and drugs and bling-
Then there’s a catch in my voice:
Will it hymn? Ah, that’s the thing.

Can I take these rhythmic rocking rhymes,
Can I make them praise to God?
Do I think he’d sing along with me
And shake his spiritual bod?
Would it sound completely natural
Or as a prayer would it be odd?
Perhaps I’d better think again:
My spirit may be flawed.

I feel like the spirit is moving me,
There’s something I have got to do.
Don’t really want anyone to see,
It’s something for me, not you.
I can’t help it; it’s good for me;
Okay, I know that’s not true.
Can I do this in Jesus’ name?
Will it say to him, thank you?

Can I take each little thing I do,
Can I make it thanks to God?
Do I think he’d work along with me
With loins girt and feet shod?
Would it sound completely natural
Or as a prayer would it be odd?
Perhaps I’d better think again:
My spirit may be flawed.