Flat Lines

The bearer of the cross
Cries, counting his loss

With heartbeats of lead
And tears full of sorrow
Time passes like fame
No hope for tomorrow
Stifled, discouraged
With no one to blame
Bored with existence
No gamble or game

in pockets with holes
endless prayers for lost souls
Ridiculous faith
and nobody knows
but me.
Fix me, free me, or let me be

One day at a time sweet Jesus