Christ, is your voice void
will the body be destroyed
do those that curse your name
walk upon these streets in shame
pointing fingers of blame like a gun pressed against my head
were they there with deceitful hearts and prying eyes as you bled?
the questions haunt me on evenings like these
where the sun beckons the horizon and the clouds divide the sky
and the meaning is lost in the autumn breeze
while the leaves are like the dead that rise to head your cry
set me upon the palm of your hand
scatter me across this desperate wasteland
prepare my remains for the world to behold
bury my body just beyond the depths of your hold
release my heart over this emotion
a tainted dream in a dying ocean
flying above our raised hands and below our faltering feet
where everything i am is nothing short of incomplete
Christ, your voice is not void to these ears
and these hearts that you wash away with tears
the guilty are saved from the ways of old
in these streets that are paved in gold
while lifting fragile hands up unto thy name
our voices proclaim, we shall never be the same.
