When the anger in my eyes flare,
When the skin of my chin doesn't care,
When the words from my lips scare,
When the roughness of my hands rip and tear,
When my lungs are short on air,
When my body does not compare,
When my feet enter the lair,
When my arms refuse to reach out and care,
When my heart cannot bear,
When my looks aren't fair,
When my mind doesn't dare,
When my tongue dries from wear,
When the glean of my eyes pretend no one is there,
Jesus is still sitting in the chair.
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