Like a father to a son, all that's mine is always Yours. The stars of heaven mourn for what's to come. I hear a lover's song inviting me away. I know the first heart that breaks isn't mine but Yours. I know now all things, they must pass but oh the cost. How can I ask to know what forgiveness is while my hands are still tied with guilt and the filth of mistrust? My hands have built the cross. How can I ever look into Your eyes when my hands will nail You down? How can I ask to know what forgiveness is when it's my hands that built the cross? How can I account for this? How can I just walk away? There's a flame that still lights the gate