I stand at the gates of Hell, holding to a sliver of hope that I may not enter. I look for You, but I cannot find You. Are You hiding? Why? I see Your words in black and white and black and white all turns to gray. What did You say?

Pollution clouds my vision and I cannot see the Son through the haze. Can I know Your ways? How many days, weeks, months, years, decades will it take to shake this fake and make him real. You got a raw deal. How do You feel?

Hope lives. Love gives. I will see You tomorrow, but can I borrow, a little joy for the sorrow of today? What do You say? A break in the clouds, a voice from the crowds, “I love you!” From places never guessed, You bring the best, and I’ve no time to be depressed.