I suppose it would be easier for me
To gouge out my eyes,
Than for you to dress modestly and with integrity.
Can't you see that destruction is at your doorway?
There is a way that seems right to a man,
But in the end it leads to death.
You think it's not hurting anyone,
But you're robbing yourself of your destiny everytime,
And stealing her respect and purity.
Is this darkness creeping in?
Did you put that black flame to your heart?
It seems so sweet to you,
To stare and think.
Treating it like they owe you;
The vile things you see as you blink.
This "Oh so harmless" self-centred thought
Has become the most vicious and
Violent toxin.
Your sweet sweet poison.
It's like a subtle knife, slipping its way into your spine.
Paralysing, crippling; tearing you apart.
This is insideous (breakdown)
Slowly, silently, killing yourself it's spiritual suicide.
To see the unseen ultimate destruction.
Such a great sickness, making yourself the slave.
Slave to desire.
Slave to the image.
Slave to brokeness.
Slave to the flesh.
Slave to lust
Slave to damnation.
You are the slave.
He whom the Son sets free, is free indeed.
Jesus died and rose again paying your indemnity,
He overcome and secured your victory.
Don't throw away your eternity
For the sake of a fantasy.
Now stand and fight.
For your life.
For your wife.
For every moment and every breath.
I once consumed this poison everyday,
Now within me moves a greater taste for life awakened.
So now I take this captive,
These vile ponderings.
It's time to renew this machine like mind.
By Your word I will make me obey.
Saved by one thing, one voice that said
"Let yourself be consumed by My fires' embrace.
Like clay to remove the mire, and gold to exclude the dross.
So shall you be purified. Now go and sin no more."
supported by 11 fans who also own “Those Who Endure - The Sweetest Poison”
Croyez-le ou non, j'ai écouté cet album en intégralité, et sans interruption ! Si, si, je vous assure ! Bon, d'accord, j'avoue que j'ai pensé à deux ou trois reprises à appuyer sur pause, histoire de souffler un peu. J'ai même prié à un moment pour qu'il y ait une coupure de courant, trouvant ainsi le prétexte idéal... mais non ; d'une traite vous dis-je ! Le pire dans tout ça, c'est que je ne regrette même pas. Incorrigible le type ! Poesy Rider