'You are what you are, '
How true to say; but
You're not bound to be
What you are today.
Tracks in the sand mark a line of remorse
For a life derailed from a chosen course.
As we plead for exclusion with sweet sublime
And rapidly make mention of a wounded mind,
The decree was plain, by all was known;
Sacred, to Him, hollowed by God alone.
Valley of Trouble, flames to the sky;
Valley of Achor, stones piled high.
Rediscovered my voice just the other day
Noticed it was harboring the same old lie;
Wrote it all down on the head of a pin,
Simple justification for a life of sin.