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House of the Lord
These wounds are inflicted
By the atrocities upon this world
Numerous lifetimes of burning
Before they get old
Rejected by the traits of life
I roam these streets, so fiercely alone
I found a window of forgiven credit
I have no ego to sit and beg
It is the Lord that gives and then he forgives
Little did I know
My fortune and my fate
Would catch up to me
As they took away my place
I left the house of the Lord
Tired, hungry and chilled to the bone
Into the darkness of burning fire
Careful of the sleeping ashes
Of the night before
Nick Kler
