| ..Doubting.. | |
| TryingNot to look at the face of the man who is dying | |
| To look for the face of the man who is lying | |
| The ambler gambler is low and loaded | |
| His rusty steed turns to burn into my soul | |
| I hear the cries | |
| My body lies in sanctuary | |
| The long way home | |
| I cannot seek | |
| He knows the pain its special place | |
| I know its look | |
| I know its face | |
| White silver draws black lines | |
| Bright whites the killing kind | |
| Two wrongs don't make a right | |
| Two blacks don't make a white | |
| Devotion isn't what it seems | |
| The broker of my broken dreams | |
| Hell is all that | |
| I seeMy cell is my sanctuary | |
| There's a black space where my soul should be | |
| A gaping wound where my heart could be | |
| I feel so low | |
| I feel like | |
| ChristI see my head is turning white | |
| The knuckles twisted raw and | |
| I'm so empty | |
| And there's no respite | |
| You prey together on the small | |
| Hell-vision shows it every night | |
| The ambler gambler is low and loaded | |
| His rusty steed turns to burn into my soul | |
| I hear the cries | |
| My body lies in sanctuary | |
| The long way home is what | |
| I seekHe knows the pain its special place | |
| And I know your face |
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