The sky seems sad, more blue, when sin is manifesting inside of you.
Perception spoils reality, stealing all true forms of boredom and sensuality.
Nothing seems real when you are fake, nothing can be trusted when full of hate.
God alone converts that which conspires, he alone can transform the heart of a liar.
Twisted forms of reality grow so healthy, their perversion is hellishly stealthy.
Deceiving myself is all too common, peace cannot be found when trustworthy thoughts are like a famine.
Set my eyes on you, O Author of Life, only by grace, not because it is right.
I deserve this world of blue, thank God, however, my old self is through.
There I belong but here I am found, with my perception and reality both fully sound.
Only you can make a sick mind sane, my thoughts are clear because for me you were slain.
Raised from the dead and then ascended on high, you redeemed all that was going awry.
Seeing clearly and thinking straight too, this right mind I owe only to you.