I don't call on trouble, trouble calls on me;
I don't invite it through my door, it's got it's own house key.
Trouble knows my number, it follows in my wake;
at night it whispers in my ear, "it's all a big mistake".
I've learned a lot of lessons, with trouble by my side;
no point in second guessing, there's nowhere left to hide.
There seems no end to troubled times, but count it all illusion
troubles been a dear old friend, and this is my conclusion.
With a good old bud like trouble, there's trouble in the hood;
but I can trust that God is workin' everything for good.
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." - Romans 8:28
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