In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
  When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
  There's a dying voice within me reaching out somewhere
  Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.
    Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake
  Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break
  In the fury of the moment I can see the master's hand
  In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.
    Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
  Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
  The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
  To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
    I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
  And every time I pass that way I always hear my name
  Then onward in my journey I come to understand
  That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.
    I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
  In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light
  In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
  In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.
    I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
  Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other time it's only me
  I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
  Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.