Deadlines Are Things That We Pass Through

The Outside World Is Black And White With Only One Color Dead.

In Your Eyes I See The Doorway To A Thousand Churches.

I Hold The Line, The Line Of Strength That Pulls Me From The Fear.

I Like The Touch And The Smell Of All The Pretty Dresses You Wear.

Self-conscious, Uncertain, I'm Showered By The Dust. But The Spirit Enters Into Me And I Submit To Trust.