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Please be near to my quiet heart, 'cause I've got nothing, I've got nothing good to say to you. Can you be near to a broken heart under the great tree where I lie in wait to give myself into the dark. Can you complete me. Can you complete me, Oh God. What happens when I become a slave to flesh? And It feels so good, feels so good to be in this much pain and debt. And how can you even stand to look at me with tears in my eyes asking you why you went so far away? Can you complete me? Will you complete me? If you make life by breathing into the dust, what does that make you. If you can make flesh appear on dry bones, what does that make me?