My Obsession

Skillet frames devotion as something closer to addiction than piety here, and the lyrics lean into that discomfort rather than softening it. The speaker calls God's love a cage and a prison that is somehow pleasing, then admits to being resigned as a fool, tangled in thoughts of the beloved. The chorus names the object of desire as an infatuation and a possession, asking not to be left stranded in the obsession itself — a plea that treats longing as both refuge and risk. Later verses push further: kissing feet, worshiping the air someone breathes, following wherever the beloved goes. The bridge tips into near-mania, asking whether this is lunacy, going crazy for just a word or a touch, exploding like chemicals and unable to get enough. Against all that fever, the recurring image of thirst quenched and a soul drenched like poured water reads almost like relief. The song doesn't resolve the tension between worship and obsession so much as hold both words in the same breath, letting the listener decide which one is doing the real work.