Yet to You . . .

Deep into my flesh, these chains have eaten

Days into decades, I have crawled in this dust of want

This debt of sin is a millstone around my haggard, scaly neck

Yet to You, do I lift my bonny, calloused hands

You who lives yonder, next to the sun

You whose breathe is my very life

Does my voice enter your court?

Will You open if I knock on Your heart?

Will You bid me in, should I knock, despite my stinky, tattered rags

Yet unto You can I only hold fast

For You are the light of my hope

Should I look elsewhere, there will I reap only baskets of darkness

So, send Your hand of comfort to me

My heart is in thorns

My tears are acid onto my flesh

Meet me halfway, make haste towards me

I wanna know Your name

Unto Your heart I wanna knock

Before dust returns to dust