I'm losing contact, Forgetting what is real.
Able to touch, but not able to feel.
It's easier, to shut out everyone.
I'm chasing after my newest distraction to escape it all.
My God, Oh my God - What have I become? The self-addicted one.
My God, Oh my God - You never failed me, You're what I need.
So often I'm, the sleeping prayer.
More often I'm, the weeping betrayer.
Sometimes I play the martyr, become the traitor.
The humbled sinner, has never been a role I knew to play.
Treason.
A pound of flesh is the debt,
Leaving a crippled man.
I'll give you all I have left,
A straining outstretched hand.
Is it enough?
Reach down.
Take me back.
