Assistance from within
My patience wearing thin
As I wait for a distant visitor
A ceremonial trance
Am I begging for a chance
To trouble the mind with my innocence
It's holy by default
The prophecies dissolve
I have seen it somewhere else
There's a painting in my head
Undivided by time and sentiment
Feelings of unease
Will arrive by slow degrees
When they're reading our final testament
I know the saints will cry