In the time of my confession, in the hour
of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet
flood every
Newborn seed.
There's a dying voice within me reaching
out somewhere
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of
despair.
Don't have the inclination to look
back on any mistake.
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of
events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the
Master's hand.
In every leaf that trembles, in every
grain of sand.
Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds
of yesteryear.
Like criminals, they have choked the breath
Of conscience and good cheer.
But the sun beat down upon the steps of time to
light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory
of decay.
I gaze into the doorway of temptation's
angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always
hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to
understand
That every hair is numbered, like every
grain of sand.
I have gone from rags to riches in the
sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the
chill of a
Wintry night
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading
into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each
forgotten face.
I hear the ancient footsteps like the
motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there,
other times it's
Only me.
I am hanging in the balance of a perfect
finished plan
Like every sparrow falling, like every
grain of sand.
