The blood runs through my hands
pain, irony, lust, and sorrow
the night complains tomorrow
a day inside, inside bleeding sands
The blood... the blood runs through my hands.
God's grace shattered, his eyes turned away
Still this blood runs through my hands
Stay a little while, I hope and then pray
God told me little of his plans
The blood runs right through my hands...
Burnt, burnt down the bridge in day
Run, run across the acrid void at night
Seeking, losing, searching, finding at last...
That this blood, this blood runs through my hands.
Copyright © Tim B