Borrowed Dust

[INTRO]

THE NAZARENE.
Wisdom Drill.

The earth is the Lord’s.
You don’t own dust.
You hold it.

[VERSE 1]

Borrowed dust in a rented hand,
iron, glass, copper, sand.
Keys in your palm, but the car came first
from ore in the dark and pressure in earth.

Rubber had roots, oil had graves,
glass was a beach before showroom praise.
Copper slept deep in a mineral vein,
now it hums in the dash while you flex in rain.

You say, “That’s mine,” but the rust says, “When?”
Time does maths on the pride of men.
Bonnet shines, but the brake pads thin,
rain writes truth on the thing you sit in.

Phone in your hand is a pocket shrine,
silicon sand with a battery spine.
Lithium flame from the ground below,
glass for the eye with a counterfeit glow.

It cannot cleanse you, cannot forgive,
cannot tell dead bones, “Rise and live.”
It cannot bear guilt, cannot kill shame,
cannot stand when the Judge calls name.

House on the road with the mortgage chain,
brick from clay and a roof in rain.
Pipes get weak and the plaster cracks,
weeds preach loud through patio gaps.

Gold on the wrist, but the seconds teach:
time won’t kneel to the rich man’s reach.
Wardrobe full, but the soul still poor,
fresh new trainers by a graveyard door.

[HOOK]

Borrowed dust, borrowed breath,
can’t hold gold when you step through death.
Borrowed time, borrowed frame,
Christ owns life, not your title or name.

Borrowed dust, borrowed breath,
rich fool counted but he couldn’t cheat death.
Let that false little kingdom fall,
Jesus is Lord and He calls us all.

[VERSE 2]

Ecclesiastes on a wet estate,
black sky low by the corner-shop gate.
Solomon walks with a scale in hand,
weighing man’s dreams against falling sand.

“Vapour, vapour,” the old king speaks,
silver in safes and blush on cheeks.
Pleasure gets hungry, money grows wings,
death walks level through peasants and kings.

Job said, “Naked I came to the earth,
naked return when I leave this birth.”
Blessed be God when the goods depart,
that’s deep-root wisdom in a torn-up heart.

But we build little barns out of fear and foam,
stack more stuff so the ache feels home.
Bigger account, bigger room, bigger screen,
still can’t silence what the grave might mean.

Rich fool said, “Soul, take rest,”
grain in the barn and pride in the chest.
God said, “Tonight your soul is required,”
then the empire of storage expired.

That’s Gospel maths with a terrifying sum:
world in your fist, but your soul still numb.
Gain every postcode, every blue tick,
still no cure for a heart born sick.

What can pay for a soul gone cold?
Can a chain make clean? Can a watch make whole?
Can a card cross judgement? Can fame erase
one dark thought from the holy place?

No.
Only the blood.
Only the Lamb.
Only the Son of the great I AM.

[HOOK]

Borrowed dust, borrowed breath,
can’t hold gold when you step through death.
Borrowed time, borrowed frame,
Christ owns life, not your title or name.

Borrowed dust, borrowed breath,
rich fool counted but he couldn’t cheat death.
Let that false little kingdom fall,
Jesus is Lord and He calls us all.

[VERSE 3]

Follow the object, rewind the flex,
barcode birth and a landfill death.
Factory breath, then a checkout beep,
now it sleeps with the things you keep.

You called it treasure when the box came sealed,
six months later it’s charity-field.
Same thing shining in another man’s room,
dust changed owner but still found doom.

That’s not wealth, that’s musical chairs,
matter keeps moving while everybody stares.
You paid full price for a passing cloud,
then called it identity, wore it proud.

Trainer was status, then pavement, then rain,
split at the sole like a prophecy chain.
Watch said luxury, seconds said liar,
time ate the strap and the gold lost fire.

Phone said future with a glassy grin,
still came out of the ground like sin.
Silicon sand in a black mirror frame,
telling dead souls, “Make yourself a name.”

That’s Babel with apps, same tower in hand,
wet bricks stacked against God’s command.
Swipe for a throne, scroll for a crown,
grave don’t care what you downloaded down.

Creation is good, but it ain’t divine,
don’t kiss the clay then call it a sign.
God made atoms, laws and light,
you made a password and thought you had might.

Colossians cuts through the circuit board:
all things were made through Christ the Lord.
Seen and unseen, thrones and bones,
He owns the breath in the emperor’s lungs.

Cross is the place where boasting gets stripped,
blood on the wood where the debt got clipped.
Third day dawned and the stone got moved,
Christ rose bodily, scars still proved.

Repent from dust, let idols fall,
Jesus is Lord and He calls us all.

[FINAL HOOK]

Borrowed dust, borrowed breath,
can’t hold gold when you step through death.
Borrowed time, borrowed frame,
Christ owns life, not your title or name.

Borrowed dust, borrowed breath,
Jesus stepped down and conquered death.
Let that false little kingdom fall,
Jesus is Lord and He calls us all.