The world is corrupted, and the fires burn bright;
Burn bright deep inside me, at the alter of plight;
And the world getting harder, on top these messes I make;
While my life's getting harder, my caution I foresake;
Like a blundering wind, with my life spinning faster;
A porch light in the storm, you provide my shelter;
Shelter from the storm, you keep me warm at night;
And you help me see brighter, thru the darkness with light;