With souls on fire, they shall surrender peace. But blood still flows from the eyes of martyrs. In light of hatred, we now know our purpose. Dear God, what is this? What is it that youve done? These moments, forgotten shall disappear. Its not a menu from which to pick and choose for God, for marriage, for life but fuck the poor? And i wont lose hope that one day ill believe but until then ill be the cynic. Then again i could be in the wrong but i guess thats what faith is. I know theres still hope that compassion will rise again. This faith burns in their eyes and blood still flows from my wounds. I fail to find the faith despite what i wish for. With souls on fire, they shall surrender peace. But blood still flows from the eyes of martyrs. Entrenched, they suffer from the things that they hide from. They seek salvation which they will never find. For the lost, for the poor, for the disregarded. For the souls, for the faith of the brokenhearted.
faith, flow, martyr, still, poor