Opened up empty, everything removed
They say your home's where your heart is; I live in a tomb
If my hopes would only hang by a thread
It'd be better than this; it'd be better than this cross
I was in the hammer, I was in the nail
My soul entombed in the grave, my heart torn in the veil
My fate held in Your cold hands, my hopes crushed in Your death
But I hang on to the promise that you remain in what is left
Of my heart
Is everything falling, or could it just be me?
They've buried a prophet, a priest and a king
He was all that I had, and I am made poor
He is all that I am; am I made to be no more?
