He spins a web,
Of evil lies,
And then he waits,
In deepest night,
...
And then it is,
That the king rides out,
Upon his splendid pow’r,
...
His pow’r hath made me whole,
This has been said before.
There’s naught that I can say,
But His pow’r hath made me whole.
...
We’re drifting, bobbing, waves are turning,
Each to own and other leaving.
How can each to other staying,
Tis for naught this way to seek.
...
Life’s a tumbled, jumbled mess.
We each have demons, have fears and failures;
Each man a sorrow, each woman the same.
They twist and hold us, pull and hurt us,
...
For one who knows not,
What is love, if not a feeling,
What is love without two lovers,
...
Oh, what a sad tale I tell,
Of a man who fell,
And rose once more,
All sad and sore,
...