Savior

*is

True story. Christmas day, I met a black woman named Jesus living on the streets of Des Moines. I brought her water and she named me Water. Still, I find myself at the intersection of white guilt and white saviorism. To succumb to either is to uphold an injust system. So I write silly little songs. She sleeps on the street. I have a warm bed. This is reality.

Kat: keys, vox, lyrics

Christmas morning, I found Jesus
camped outside the store
water was my offering
I could have given so much more

Ten dollars for her cigarettes
no more than she would pay
Now I’m cursed to think about it
every single day

Glory, glory
to me, the glory

I see your face in everyone
I know I cannot save
Being part of a larger thing
will lead me to the grave

Burning so that you don’t have to
is a price I’d gladly pay
Now I’m blessed to think about you
every single day

Glory, glory
to me, the glory

I am Water and you are Jesus
these names we give ourselves
I never wanted to make such a fuss
we could be anybody else

While you sleep beneath these stars,
I am warm inside my bed
To me, the glory
and, to you, the dead

Glory, glory
to me, the glory
to me, the glory
to me, the glory
to you, the glory