How many times must I
take it into my own hands
to burry my sin?

I pry at my terrain,
digging up graves
to throw my mind inside.

But the whole in my soil
is far too shallow,
so when the night comes and the rain falls,
I look down at the dirt
I've scrapped from my palms,
and find that my
****** bones
have resurfaced.

Do I not see
I am digging holes in my hands,
a trench within my mind?

Why have I not
laid my shovel down,
when Christ has already
etched in my tombstone
my sin, that's dead?

I cannot avoid the night.
I cannot outrun the rains.
But I can send all my sin
His way.

I want to fall inside
of You,
and fill up all the holes
in my hands,
revive all the graves
inside my mind.