Dying, dying, death-
I can’t seem to get a grip.
Devastation surrounds me.
Thoughts of affliction
Have consumed me.
Each day, I rot away.
Without hope, I’m filled with decay.
There is nothing meaningful
Underneath my soul.
Without the Lord,
I’m traveling a broken road.
Desolate, I am walking in despair.
Desperate, I turn my face
And search for the One who cares.
He renews my mind,
He lifts me up.
I plea with my Maker
“Let me drink from your cup!”