Grace Foulk

A man lie alone in bed, night after night, as death whispers in the ear to his right

An angel choir sings softly, in the ear to his left,

Until they fought in the middle because that's where they met.

The man turned and screamed, he turned and he tostled,

'Till he learned he could subdue the sound with a bottle.

So he then sat in bars,

and he started counting his scars...

Unaware he'd given victory to the demons inside...

He'd given his soul and was now lucky to be alive.

The devil himself tried to take him at last, 

Chasing him towards him with monsters from his past.

The angels tried to help him, but he turned away.

There was nothing God could do, there was nothing we could say.

And hundreds more like him, that's why we pray.