I have toiled for countless years and ever felt the cost, and I've been burned by this world's cold, like leaves beneath the frost. On my knees I've crawled to You, bleeding myself dry. But the price of life is more, than I could ever buy.
And off of the blocks I was headstrong and proud, at the front of the line for the card-carrying high-browed, with both eyes fastened tight, yet unscarred from the fight, running at full tilt my sword pulled from its hilt. It's funny how these things can slip away, our frail deeds, the last will wave goodbye. It's funny how the hope will bleed away the citadels we build and fortify. Goodbye!
Night came and I broke my stride. I swallowed hard but never cried. When grace was easy to forget, I'd denounce the hypocrites. Casting first stones. Killing my own.
Then You would unscale my blind eyes and I stood battered but more wise. Fighting to accelerate. Shaking free from crippling weight. With resilience unsurpassed, I crawled my way to you at last. And on my knees, I wept at your feet. I finally believed that You still love me.
