Hawk Nelson - Words Lyrics
Lyrics
They've made me feel like a prisoner
They've made me feel set free
They've made me feel like a criminal
Made me feel like a king
They've lifted my heart
To places I'd never been
And they've dragged me down
Back to where I began
Words can build you up
Words can break you down
Start a fire in your heart or
Put it out
Let my words be life
Let my words be truth
I don't wanna say a word
Unless it points the world back to You
You can heal the heartache
Speak over the fear (speak over the fear)
God, Your voice is the only thing
We need to hear (we need to hear)
Words can build us up
Words can break us down
Start a fire in our hearts or
Put it out
Let my words be life
Let my words be truth
I don't wanna say a word
Unless it points the world back to You (back to You)
Let the words I say (let the words I say)
Be the sound of Your grace (sound like Your grace)
I don't wanna say a word
Unless it points the world back to You (back to You)
Let my words be life
Let my words be truth
I don't wanna say a word
Unless it points the world back to You (back to You)
Let the words I say (let the words I say)
Be the sound of Your grace (sound like Your grace)
I don't wanna say a word
Unless it points the world back to You (back to You)
Words can build us up
Words can break us down
Start a fire in our hearts
Or put it out
I don't wanna say a word
Unless it points the world back to You
Video
Hawk Nelson: Words (Official Lyric Video)
Meaning & Inspiration
I’ve spent a lifetime turning the pages of old hymnals until the paper is soft as linen, and I’ve learned that most things said in this world are just noise. When I listen to Hawk Nelson singing about words being able to build up or break down, it hits me in the quiet of a Tuesday afternoon, when the house is empty and the shadows are long.
"They've made me feel like a prisoner / They've made me feel set free."
That line caught me off guard. Most folks want to pretend that their speech is always holy, always aimed at the clouds. But I know better. I remember the sharp things I said when I was angry, the times my tongue felt like a chain around my own neck, keeping me locked in a cell of pride. And I remember the grace of a soft answer that acted like a key in a rusty lock. James hit the nail on the head when he wrote about the tongue being a fire—a restless evil full of poison. We like to think we’re in control of the sounds coming out of our mouths, but most days, we’re just flicking matches in a dry forest.
The prayer in the chorus—"I don't wanna say a word / Unless it points the world back to You"—is a heavy thing to ask. At my age, you realize just how little you actually have to say that’s worth hearing. When the joints ache and the memory starts to blur, you stop trying to impress the room. You start wondering if your life has actually been an advertisement for the Creator or just a collection of opinions.
There’s a tension there, isn't there? We want to be conduits of grace, yet our mouths are so quick to grumble. It’s a battle I’m still losing, if I’m being honest. I catch myself wanting to correct someone or make sure I’m heard, and I have to stop. I have to go back to the idea that His voice is the only thing that actually settles the storm. Everything else is just shifting sand.
"Let the words I say / Be the sound of Your grace."
That’s the goal, but it’s a hard one to reach. Maybe it’s not about finding the perfect phrase. Maybe it’s just about shutting up long enough for the Holy Spirit to get a word in edgewise. My hands are weathered, and my voice is thin, but I still pray that what remains of my life sounds less like me and more like Him. It’s an unfinished business, this business of sanctified speech. You don't master it; you just keep showing up, trying to speak as if the next word might be the last one you get to offer.