Huddled in the sleepless darkest before the dawn
Isolated in my grave bed and my still, always brokenness
Not daring to hope in resurrection or life
Desperately grasping at straws: might the light of the world show up?
Isolated in my grave bed and my still, always brokenness
Not daring to hope in resurrection or life
Desperately grasping at straws: might the light of the world show up?
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