With the devil at my back, Giving lies in the form of dreams. Unfinished. With a heart unfinished, a body undone. Never hearing a voice or the sound of moving steps. Living life like a sickness, I let the cancer increase. This is how the venom works. 'You are so broken' that's what you said to me. This is restless sleep. These are prophets' dreams. So when I wake what will I see, The image of a madman before me or some holy presence? Make us calm! Amongst us: a remnant of what was. I hear the fall in the sound of walking away With the devil at my back giving lies in the form of dreams. This is the recollection of what I used to be, But as it stands this is who I am. All my wanderings to no avail, risen now, not called to mourn. The sight arrested, suspended in my mind, the image of a madman before me. Where there is nothing Spirit now create!