I am weightless in the breathlessness of my own soul;
where I wake up every part of myself – piece by piece.
Life is the length you live, until you die – measuring
it risk by risk.

My soul is amiss, where I aim my mark on giving
out good remarks. But I must admit, sometimes it’s
all just a miss.

Yes, I am this candle of love, burning fiercely in my heart.
But where I burn from its wick; my heart is fiercely wicked.
And I play out the cast of my feelings – but, why do I have
to act them out as an armed hand; protecting my very own
insecurities, held in a daily ***** cast?

And in all the beautiful things I can see, I quickly fish
for ideas. Afterwards, I cast my net to grab onto dreams –
still I need the fires of His love, for my soul can easily fall
asleep. For our beds are our testing graves, and after your
final resting place, where will you end up in the End of days?