B r o ke n .
How I wish to stand up and praise you.
But guilt pulls down every inch of my soul
With those thick, sharp hooks
And the Devil stands in front giving me his dark looks
Could I shout, could I Cry?
Would my wet eyes fall on the altar and make you turn
Your Gracious eyes?
Toward a sinner, as degraded as I
A sweet sacrifice I wished to offer
Same old story
I’m just playing it over
But this time
I want to be liberated
Live life for you
If that’s what’s consecrated.
Yet the desolation just gives me a way.
Would two hands lifted up
You feel far away
Farther than I could come back home
What’s point in me shedding tears all the way
as I go farther away from you?
Would a swollen heart, red and heavy
Ever be made to feel like it should
Could I ever be fortunate to be the one
to be called back to your arms?