Is the work of not hating,
And my prayers aren't making a sound.
Worn out an haggard,
Back is be-daggered,
But you want one more round.
So fill up the glass,
And give it a pass,
I'll empty before it's set down.
The gates your decision,
Still locked by derision,
One foot in the safe side of town.
The freedom you seek,
Is pricey, so to speak,
The cost is the peace (piece?) of your soul.
All the burning inside,
Could be quenched by the tide.
He is all you need to be whole.
Won't you join me at His table?
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