Surrounded by the cold keeps me from thinking I might endure
Abandoned and want to fall asleep, not think, survival not sure
Becoming exhausted, body refuses to work, coma is not alive
I've nothing to save me, trapped in a terminal with crackheads
The freezing city streets, combined with the absence of hope
Leading me to an inferno of self doubt, and inevitable end
If Jesus is real I wish he would come save me, but this is Hell
All I ever read was that he rules in Heaven, so you know ...
That might never happen, but one can never tell
