sackcloth over my head, it's raining
tenfold black pouring down i'm staining
the ashes cover the sorrow is growing stronger
treading through mire that befriends me daily

the ties that bind me must be cut pull it away
so pivotal the point on which i always sway
trust in me
the ties that bind me must be cut pull it away
so pivotal the point on which i always sway
drink me in

tranquil are the days sojourning on
swept through house must fall to bring the dawn
caught up beauty drifts through my world
found me soiled grace washed me over

the pitiful man despised as he is wallows in the mire of his ways
so pompously he parades himself proud of the belly upon which he crawls
eating upon the fat of the land ravenously devouring in foolish desire
so wanton yet so oblivious to the cry within the navel of his soul
in earnest captivity sensing no chains that ensnare he is in no way free
a slave to the mind of his ways, his world, his truth
so high upon the hills he looks at those below
humbled in sorrow from the blackness of their sins and he must know

wash me over
standing under
wash me over

trust in me
drink me in