Doubting

..Trying

Not to look at the face of the man who is dying

To look for the face of the man who is lying

The ambler gambler is low and loaded

His rusty steed turns to burn into my soul

I hear the cries

My body lies in sanctuary

The long way home I cannot seek

He knows the pain its special place

I know its look I know its face



White silver draws black lines

Bright whites the killing kind

Two wrongs don't make a right

Two blacks don't make a white

Devotion isn't what it seems

The broker of my broken dreams

Hell is all that I see

My cell is my sanctuary



There's a black space where my soul should be

A gaping wound where my heart could be

I feel so low I feel like Christ

I see my head is turning white

The knuckles twisted raw and I'm so empty

And there's no respite

You prey together on the small

Hell-vision shows it every night

The ambler gambler is low and loaded

His rusty steed turns to burn into my soul

I hear the cries

My body lies in sanctuary

The long way home is what I seek

He knows the pain its special place

And I know your face