wondering where exactly I've been,
striving, driving, has it all been sin?
I've given myself in, standing up,
And beating on drums, standing up,
and beating up the dust,
it's the simple dust that created me,
that clouds and eventually rusts.
it's the dust that created you,
that makes us sin,
and I'm covered in it,
painted by it,
in love with it.

But it's my sin, my sins,
that I wish to forgive,
for after I have concurred those sins and demolished you in yours,
I wish to forgive, be forgiven,
and upon my death I wish that,
that this life, my last life, is the one I am forgotten,
beating on the drums, and beating up the dust.

I have become not much more than rusty sin, that I wish mostly I myself can learn to forgive,
because I cannot forgive,
Like Jesus three days later,
because I have yet to forgive myself of these rusty sins,
that poured more than just my blood, beating on the drums, stirring up rust that once was dirt.

Simply because I have found seeking out not only forgiveness but pure blissful love for myself and for you,
because we cannot erase our sins, and Karma she cares not about your love, nor does she your forgiveness,
hence I am likely cursed another life of sin.

Rebirth like Jesus, because I cannot forgive my sin.