No tapes, but they're recording
The quill tip, the ball of the pen is dribbling
The Shame beneath is rumbling
The Guilt of a sinning believer is lingering
Adrenaline... Gushing..
Droughts hunger for this kind of flooding
I'm reeking...
the odour of regret is reefing
Because Angels are busily scribbling
The Holy pens are bleeding
Sacred Ink is spilling
Staining books of deeds
Tainting chapters of creed
They say Angels are excellent scribes
One on the left, one on the right
Their job is to write like they never left
Every wrong and every right
Profound perfectionists, never to miss a thing
Or ever run out of ink
May the writer of good be kept busy
And the author of evil deeds get sleepy
If it's a public hearing, God is listening
Forever a Witness, Jehovah is in every private business
Man I'm Terrified
Horrified that I may be vilified
statements of my own accounts rendered
Book of life or book of death, where will my name be entered?
Every time, though no cameras and CCTVs watch
When it ticks, Every action, every word always under their watch
This is 24 hour surveillance, life sentence
Micro decibels of every whisper is audible in great heavens
The devil is always preying
Man I need to keep praying
Tired of running, tired of tumbling
Fatigued from carrying...
... This guilt of sin is a heavy burden
But A reminder for a believer
To embrace repentance before the grim reaper
May God's mercy find me before Eternal damnation