I have been scarred so deep by life and cold despair, and brittle bones were broken far beyond repair. I have leveled lies so deep, the truth may never find. And inside my faithless heart, I stole things never mine.

If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.

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.

If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.

And off of the blocks, I was headstrong and proud, at the front of the line for the card-carrying, highbrowed. 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 good-bye. It's funny how the hope will bleed away, the citadels we build and fortify. Good-Bye.