What I fear from others is nothing more than I would do
What I hate about others is nothing more than myself cast upon a silhouette
What I hate about others is nothing more than myself cast upon a silhouette
The price of sin is knowing sin:
what I have done may be done to me
what I have done may be done to me
Time makes it seem divisible when in fact sin is one as love is one
They say God helps those who wish to escape
How else could love infiltrate this ruthless arithmetic?