He helps

I'm blessed
I gotta do my best
When I'm writing these rhymes
God puts his hand on my mind
Then I go blind
And I find
He writes through me
It may not be a profound prophecy
Still he's working, through me
For that I am glad to see
I'm one of his children
One of a million, a billion
Since I've known my life's in his hands
I've been trying to become a better man
There's no guarantee
On my life expectancy
Except I'm going, when he picks me
When I've lived my lifes purpose
I can only hope that I end up on heavens surface.