Tired

life was silent this morning,

distant and confused;

I am tired of the pain,

I am tired of the suffering;

yet still You raise me up,

even now You carry me forward;

without You there is nothing;

the dreams grow,

the time almost here,

the moment rushes forward,

payment past due,

the taste becomes bitter,

inside this dry and dying

cauldron;

I am tired of the pain,

I am tired of the suffering;

yet still You raise me up,

even now You carry me forward;

without You there is nothing.

.

.