We've seen our spirit, not our flesh, decay.
Man, in despair, on all his anguish dwells.
Out of the soul's dark night he roils for day
But, reaching daylight, grumbles and rebels.
By unbelief bombarded and s**ed dry
He has but the unbearable to bear,
Aware of what awaits all things that die,
He thirsts for faith...but doesn't have a prayer
And cannot say, with tears and shattered pride,
However brutally he comes to grief
Against deadbolted doors: "Let me inside!
Lord, I believe! Help Thou my unbelief!"