I built my towers, I touched the sky,
Held the stars, thought I could fly.
But the wind it howled, the stones they fell,
Now I’m lost inside this shell.
(Rising intensity, trembling with raw emotion—pleading but still restrained.)
Kneeling down where the embers lie,
Echoes of my pride still cry.
I have nothing left but broken hands,
Still, I reach—still, I stand.
(Strong, soaring—full of desperation and longing, like a cry to the heavens.)
Oh, mercy, mercy, hear my soul,
Take these shattered dreams, make them whole.
If I am dust, then breathe me new,
Turn my sorrow into truth.
(Quieter, aching—filled with regret, as if speaking to an empty sky.)
I called it wisdom, I called it mine,
Never knew I was walking blind.
Now my voice is hoarse, my spirit weak,
And all I have is faith to speak.
(Gradually intensifying—painful but steadfast, as if clinging to hope.)
Kneeling down where the embers lie,
Echoes of my pride still cry.
I have nothing left but broken hands,
Still, I reach—still, I stand.
Oh, mercy, mercy, hear my soul,
Take these shattered dreams, make them whole.
If I am dust, then breathe me new,
Turn my sorrow into truth.
Let the rain fall, cleanse this ground,
Let the fire forge what’s found.
If grace is waiting past the night,
Then I will walk till morning’s light.
I have nothing—nothing to give,
But faith is all I need to live.
Oh, mercy, mercy, hear my cry,
Let me rise or let me die.
