Level 42

I talk to the empty air
I guess it's some kind of empty prayer
To no one who's never there
It doesn't matter if they exist
I'm aesthetically atheist
It only matters I pray for this
You took the prodigal from my heart
And gave me a safe place to fall apart
You know all about me now
I was a typical crash and burn
Spent a life that I'd never earned
It wasn't ever enough somehow
I'm rooted in this place
I'm watching your silent face
I'm sensing my saving grace
Is rooted deep inside of you
Had so many trials of style
Exponentially growing wilder
Til I was right on the edge of it
And it was all down to me I guess
I must be some kind of holy mess
I only wanted you to exist