You are the burning
the flame that is turning
my smoldering ash into a bird
you are the bridge of action
I need you to help me cross
the hand that is breaking
is the hand that is making
all the dead things in me grow
a gift of a holy loss
this burning at the dross
I'm waiting for answers
I'm waiting to figure it out
I took all my chances
Well it seems that my weakness
is sometimes my only strength
And in my incompleteness you get your way
