I was painting my skin
With a blade as my brush
Watching as rivers of tears and blood rushed 
I was laying my body
For vultures and thieves 
Where evil is lurking and innocence leaves
I was filling my lungs 
And swallowing death 
Choking and crying on brain damaged breath
I was starving or stowing
Then making it go
All for a thinness of vainty's show

When in flew an angel
Of grace laden wing
A ray of sweet light from his crown formed a ring
And the gift that was given 
Through way of the tongue
Flooded my breast and infused my dead lungs
Hope had intruded 
Though to my relief
Renewed my spirit and so my belief
And the paintings were covered with a paint like the sun 
Innocence, confidence, joy: all was won.
Yet still I lie broken
For what can I do
To ever be that, which has been made new