There’s a Bible on my desk, buried under time
Collecting dust like a guilt I won’t define
I walk past it daily like it won’t speak
Like conviction’s asleep if I don’t let it breathe
We treat truth like noise in the background hum
Like it didn’t come soaked in blood and lungs
These pages weren’t printed, they were bled
By men who slept on stone with death in their head
I hear chains when I flip these pages slow
Hear whispers from a life I don’t wanna know
They lost everything just to say His name
And I’m scared of losing comfort, scared of the pain
There’s no rest for the faithful, no sleep for the soul
When you know the truth but you won’t let go
I got dust on the Word and blood on the ground
From brothers who died so it could be passed down
No rest for the wicked comfort I chase
It numbs my hands while it hollows my faith
They drank the cup, I avoid the cost
No rest in a life that’s afraid of the cross
They hunted the twelve like animals loose
Called ‘em criminals just for telling the truth
Caves for a home, chains for a bed
Still they wrote heaven with shaking hands
Peter upside down, Paul in a cell
John exiled, still ringing the bell
No crown, no praise, no place to belong
Just a fire in their chest they carried along
I scroll past suffering, call it “amen”
While they stared death down and said it again
If this is the faith that they died to defend
Why does mine fold when it’s mildly bent
There’s no rest for the faithful, no peace in denial
When comfort’s a drug and the truth’s on trial
I got dust on the Word, chains in the sound
Of voices that screamed so we’d hear them now
No rest for the wicked comfort I chase
It feeds my body while it starves my faith
They gave up their lives, I’m guarding mine
No rest for a soul wasting borrowed time
Comfort kills slow, like a quiet disease
Softens the edge, puts the soul at ease
Till nothing feels sacred, nothing feels real
And faith’s just a word you don’t actually feel
Maybe the fire comes when the safety’s gone
When you’ve got nothing left to lean on
They didn’t survive by playing it safe
They bled their belief into history’s page
I don’t need more proof
I need less excuses
Less silence
Less comfort
Less me choosing me
There’s no rest for the faithful, no sleep for the soul
When you know what’s right but won’t let it hold
I got dust on the Word, blood on the ground
From saints who died screaming truth out loud
No rest for the wicked comfort I chase
It keeps me alive but dead in my faith
They carried the cross, I carry my fear
No rest till the Word stops collecting dust here
So I wipe off the dust with shaking hands
Not ‘cause I’m strong, but I finally understand
Faith that costs nothing don’t resurrect
And comfort’s a grave dressed up as rest
Mario_Maldonado
