Tomorrow is about to be my past
Sleep hasn't come over me in days
I got to thinking, when will someday be my last?
Finding myself terribly wrong, depression is not a phase
One last time I raise my hands to the sky
Sometimes my conscience allows me to say nothing
But, I am able to take a short breath and ask why
My life was like a flower, that was no longer budding
I figured it out, finally got something straight
Your love surrounded me, a love most pure
I had unlocked the most important gate
And I realized that all along, Lord, you were my cure
