Everything Rests On Your Small Shoulders

I remember when you thought you found God
Painted a cross on your forehead
And wandered around the back yard like a saint
Or a shepherd tending to his flock
The irony is not lost on me
And for all your newfound love
You still seem like a bastard
Then you carried on like all the world was yours
To pity and to teach and comfort
Is it because of how you forgave yourself
That all your terrible deeds have been undone