Imagine being so broken you seem perfect.
As I walk to the altar to genuflect,
I think of all the times my mind was in a roulette,
thinking of all the times I asked God to free me from that debt.
Remembering all the times I laid still,
laying in the cold but being warmed by the chill of my soul being healed as all that pain becomes sealed.
Forgetting all the troubles, the pains, the stumbles.
Forgetting all the lies and unending deceit.
As all these words are spoken,
I lose sight of what it was like to be broken.
So imagine, imagine being so perfect you become a token.