Read the Bible

^1 1-9 God, you're my last chance of the day.
    I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
    take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
    I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
    one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
    one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
    I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
    sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
    relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
    made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
    blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

^9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
    I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
    Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
    Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
    your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

^13-18 I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
    at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
    Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
    I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
    I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
    raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
    the only friend I have left is Darkness.

^1 1-9 God, you're my last chance of the day.
    I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
    take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
    I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
    one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
    one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
    I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
    sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
    relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
    made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
    blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

^9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
    I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
    Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
    Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
    your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

^13-18 I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
    at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
    Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
    I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
    I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
    raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
    the only friend I have left is Darkness.

^1 1-9 God, you're my last chance of the day.
    I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
    take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
    I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
    one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
    one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
    I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
    sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
    relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
    made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
    blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

^9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
    I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
    Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
    Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
    your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?

^13-18 I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
    at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
    Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
    I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
    I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
    raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
    the only friend I have left is Darkness.

^1 1-9 God, you're my last chance of the day.
    I spend the night on my knees before you.
Put me on your salvation agenda;
    take notes on the trouble I'm in.
I've had my fill of trouble;
    I'm camped on the edge of hell.
I'm written off as a lost cause,
    one more statistic, a hopeless case.
Abandoned as already dead,
    one more body in a stack of corpses,
And not so much as a gravestone—
    I'm a black hole in oblivion.
You've dropped me into a bottomless pit,
    sunk me in a pitch-black abyss.
I'm battered senseless by your rage,
    relentlessly pounded by your waves of anger.
You turned my friends against me,
    made me horrible to them.
I'm caught in a maze and can't find my way out,
    blinded by tears of pain and frustration.

^9-12 I call to you, God; all day I call.
    I wring my hands, I plead for help.
Are the dead a live audience for your miracles?
    Do ghosts ever join the choirs that praise you?
Does your love make any difference in a graveyard?
    Is your faithful presence noticed in the corridors of hell?
Are your marvelous wonders ever seen in the dark,
    your righteous ways noticed in the Land of No Memory?^13-18 I'm standing my ground, God, shouting for help,
    at my prayers every morning, on my knees each daybreak.
Why, God, do you turn a deaf ear?
    Why do you make yourself scarce?
For as long as I remember I've been hurting;
    I've taken the worst you can hand out, and I've had it.
Your wildfire anger has blazed through my life;
    I'm bleeding, black-and-blue.
You've attacked me fiercely from every side,
    raining down blows till I'm nearly dead.
You made lover and neighbor alike dump me;
    the only friend I have left is Darkness.