Lord if I'm the clay
Then I've been left out in the sun
Cracked and dry, like the mud from the sty
Still clinging to the prodigal son
But I'm on my way back home
Yes I'm on my way back home
Into the hands
That made wine from the water
Into the hands
The hands of the potter
Lord if I'm the clay then
Let your living water flow
Soften up my edges, Lord,
So everyone will know
But I'm on my way back home
Yes I'm on my way back home
And Lord, when you listen for the song of my life
Let it be, let it be, a song so sweet
Let it be, let it be, a song so sweet
Let it be...
Lord, if I'm the clay then lay me down
On your spinning wheel
Shape me into something you can fill
With something real
And I'll be on my way back home
Yes i'm on my way back home
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