Things you said you'd do some day
Got pushed down the abacus of fate
All your fingers and thumbs were used
Then multiplied to count the bruises
Oh ye of little faith
Let the living be how you pray
Oh ye of little days
You can have
Your own sway
Left behind is how it feels sometimes
Gloom and doomed is the taste on your lips
All fades to yellar as you climb through the mines
Will it add up
Balance a misstep
Two gone wrongs don't make one right
Three left turns to doing better do
Oh ye of little faith
Let the living be how you pray
Oh ye of little days
You can have
Your own sway
Take care of history
Lying in a bed of mystery
Hold up with questions
To the grand misery
Swelling hearts and healing minds
You are the guts
No bad luck
Focus through the ruts
Swelling hearts and healing minds
You are the guts
No bad luck
Focus through the ruts
Oh ye of little faith
Let the living be how you pray
Oh ye of little days
You can have
Your own sway
Swelling hearts and healing minds
You are the guts
Focus through the ruts
No bad luck
Swelling hearts and healing minds
You are the guts
Focus through the ruts
No bad luck
Oh ye of little faith
Let the living be how you pray
Oh ye of little days
You can have
Your own sway