You have paid the price.
Yet I lay here, unchanged, unmoved.
You have called me from the blood-stained cross.
Yet I stay here, unchanged, unmoved.
Oh, how you have paid the price so that I may freely love you.
But that fails to be enough, to cause my weighted soul to move.
Please, take my will and my life.
I can longer steward the two.
Don’t, waste your time.
Trying to herd me with the group.
Instead, set me aside as a holy sacrifice.
I am not like the other sheep, who hearken to your call.
They stay by your side, through the passing plains and seasons change.
But I always find i’m lost inside the devils blinding smog.
I am a sheep that is good for no other purpose,
but to release its sweet incense upon the surface,
of this burning alter for which I lay,
and wait for your killing strike,
to bring to pass my humble grave.
Let the smoke rise and warn all those,
who are tempted to turn and run from home.
Let it remind them to stay beside your rod and staff,
and to not stray far from your guided path.