Would I live another day to see the crimes of my hate?
Would the sun shine again for the night to bid its care?
In the calamity of shallow despair where I dwindle each day,
Would the serenity of the divine sway me from the depths of my shade?
The world is bleeding from the wounds all share,
Would someone heal the ache, so I wonder as days flake?
Shires turning to flame, burning from what creeps within,
Would they change to what they were before the world began?
Churches are home to death and stone where God does not but slumber,
Would the messiah that sleeps within ever dare to raise his care?
Would I die before I live to see a different day?
Walking six feet under would my hopes forever go in vain?