The Dying Place
I sit still straining to hear, one word from above, this dying place.
After, you'll take me into, your glory.
I live, unseperated, from the assimilated, whose noise grows louder, every day.
The world is, killing each other, their hearts are all hardened, always driven and contending.
I sit still straining to hear, one word from above, this dying place.
After, you'll take me into, your glory.
This war brings, pain to the heart and blood to the flesh, my eyes look ever higher.
As if, each wound brings my spirit closer, to home it pulls me, through places most will perish.
I sit still straining to hear, one word from above, this dying place.
After, you'll take me into, your glory.
Whom have I, in heaven but you?
Whom have I, in heaven, in heaven but you?
And so I, sit still straining to hear, one word from above, this dying place.
After, you'll take me into, your glory.
And so I, sit still straining to hear, one word from above, this dying place.
After, you'll take me into, your glory.

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