As snow falls from the sky, the ground is
painted red with a dripping smile.
The jaws within rend again and again
as the fight goes the full mile.
Paul says I do not do the good I will to
do, but that which is evil I do;
oh, wretched man that I am, suffering
the scourge of things I cannot subdue.
I try in human might to paint the
sky a different shade,
but on the purest snow, crimson
war is quickly made.
The battle rages on, and all I can
do is just to pray,
and listen for a word from Him
who holds my every day.