Profane

I'm not the one you've read about 
  I'm not your sanctuary seat 
  I'm not the one they've told you about 
  I've never claimed to be of your belief 

  Yet the claims keep coming 
  The elaborate stories 
  When you dig up dirt it's your hands to be cleaned 

  And you are filthy from the grave you dig 

  I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock 
  I am short a feathered wing for the flock 
  But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness 

  I am not a hallow sound or a glorifying light of deeds 
  And I am not a conscience found reciting lines down on my knees 

  And there's no mistaking all of you who fake it 
  When you dig up dirt it's your hands to be cleaned 

  And you are filthy from the grave you dig 

  I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock 
  I am short a feathered wing for the flock 
  But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness 

  I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock 
  I am short a feathered wing for the flock 
  But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness, your weightless voices bearing witness 

  Can we not [7x] 
  Divide? 

  I am not a barricade 
  I'm just a different way to think 
  So make no mistake 
  I'm not your profane 

  I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock 
  I am short a feathered wing for the flock 
  But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness 

  I am a calloused hand from gripping the rock 
  I am short a feathered wing for the flock 
  But I'm not weathered from your weightless voices bearing witness, your weightless voices bearing witness