Sometimes I feel I’m in a losing battle.
Our numbers are too few and the enemy too strong.
But ooh does The Father know me well.
It wouldn’t be fair if we were evenly matched.
The fuel to my fire is the pouring rain on a shitty day.
He has given me both the will and the way.
He has made no rut too deep or wind too strong to keep me from moving forward.
The fight lives in me like the sun is hot.
And when the sun has frozen and all “odds” are against me,
with fire on my breath I will say, “Bring it.”