for he'd forsaken all he had to give you greater than words can say for he has given more than you needed a death on the cross to pay decay alone with self pity and you . . . not to blame thoughts of death become your pleasure a sanctuary in your head long awaiting peace embalms you to prepare you for your sleep but behold the image alters from what you saw it to be quiet does surround you sister isolated you will be the smell of death is no longer pleasant and darkness brings you fear your hope for escape it fades your sentence has been served if only sister you had listened to the sweet words he used to say for he'd forsaken all he had greater than can be said