My heart is held together by strings.
Once a broken heart but He pieced me back together with strings of bronze and silver.
Many have tried to tune me, trying to adjust me to what they think is the right pitch for me,
But all they do is just wind me too tight and suffocate me with their religiosity.
Others have tried to unwind and bring me down a few notes,
But they just change the key of me entirely and too loosely I hang
Like that, I cannot be played; I'm too cold for any music to be made.
The Master of my patchwork is the only One who can tune me accurately.
He knows just the right key, He knows the perfect sound for every string.
With His hands that brought me freedom, He plays me freedom songs
And resonates passion and life back into this, once hollow, sound.
Only You can strum the chords of my heart.
So play me
a song. Play me however You want.
Just let it be a sweet, sweet sound in Your ear.