My Own Damn Laws

I've read your books of ancient faith, I've heard your prophets speak
Of heavens earned and hells deserved, the strong against the weak
You draw your lines in black and white, a simple, brutal art
A thousand perfect, tiny rules to tear a man apart
You told me I was broken, that my fire was a sin
The strange and lonely country that I had to wander in
I tried to be your soldier, I tried to play your game
But every single victory just felt another shame

So I'm done with your cathedrals, and your judgments and your praise
I've spent too long inside this dark and unforgiving maze
The only truth I'm left with when I'm standing in the night
Is that a man can't find his way by any other's light

This is my Kingdom, this is my Grace
My own two hands in this broken place
I'm not your devil, not your saint
Just the quiet prayer inside the complaint
And I don't care if you call it a virtue or a crime
I'm just a man who's trying to do good with his own time
Yeah, good is good, whatever flag you're flying in the wars
And I'll be good by my own damn laws

You see a man who's selfish, 'cause he's chosen to survive
You see a man who's angry that he's still here, still alive
You see the glitch, the bug, the flaw, the thing you can't contain
A walking, talking paradox of joy and of the pain
But you don't see the battle, the war behind the eyes
The million tiny, noble and impossible goodbyes
To every easy answer, to every gentle lie
The quiet choice to stand and fight when it'd be easier to die

Yeah, I'm done with your cathedrals, and your judgments and your praise
I've spent too long inside this dark and unforgiving maze
The only truth I'm left with when I'm standing in the night
Is that a man must build a world that's strong enough to hold his light

This is my Kingdom, this is my Grace
My own two hands in this broken place
I'm not your devil, not your saint
Just the quiet prayer inside the complaint
And I don't care if you call it a virtue or a crime
I'm just a man who's trying to do good with his own time
Yeah, good is good, whatever flag you're flying in the wars
And I'll be good by my own damn laws

Maybe you're right, maybe I'm wrong
Maybe this is just a sad, old song
But the proof is in the work I do
The broken sky I'm seeing through
For the love of a child, for the hope of a friend
On this brutal honesty, I will depend

This is my Kingdom, this is my Grace
My own two hands in this broken place
I'm not your devil, not your saint
Just the quiet prayer inside the complaint
And I don't care if you call it a virtue or a crime
I'm just a man who's trying to do good with his own time
Yeah, good is good, whatever flag you're flying in the wars
And I'll be good by my own damn laws

By my own damn laws
Yeah. Good is good.