Sins

Tired, exhausted and terrified,
Lying on dusty floors and not knowing why,
The feeling of barrenness sweeps like a storm,
Somewhat close to Noah's Deluge;

Fear is the stink of rotting flesh,
No more stars where spirits rest,
Fear is the cross Man always takes,
The fear of what-ifs and what-may-be's;

For sins I made, they made me make -
My flesh lays bare on a cross,
Spirit stays strong with every nail,
While body screams death to choose;

Final the resting, the ascend above,
The battle of demons, I bear new scars,
My body is Earth's and spirit is Dust's,
But truth is I'm on the floor of rust.