Flesh

My flesh is like a leech,
Sucking me dry,
Waiting for me to die.
Waiting for me to give up, give in.
Begging for me to take hold of my sin.
'Cause it knows where I've been better than where I'm going.
It spends all its time knowing what will satisfy me now.
How to gratify me,
Pacify me,
Make me sigh, cry, die a little inside.

My flesh knows just what will make me weak at the knees
So that my chest heaves
And I can't breathe without gasping.
I can't even grasp a hold of Truth.
I can't believe in You, or me.
Because that part of me has died, you see.

I chose this slavery, these shackles.
Now I hear their mocking cackles
And I can't help but join in.
It is, after all, a comedy...
How I can just sit and watch the scenery go by.
How I can believe an unproven lie over what has been definitively true.
How I can be sure of him over You.

My flesh is decaying.
I can feel it in my bones.
And it seems as though there is no hope.