As my hands begin to tremble From a rawness in my heart These petty fingers will not move My sterile mind has gone to bed Underneath two panes of sin Still exist the flaws of breathing And a question worth no answer For whose purpose am I living? After story These crystal tears Fall down to meet the ashes Stooping low, to see the sadness Wretched eyes, upon the soil The air has been diluted… The words have gone away… As myself, I now am absent Jesus hear me, Hear me pray