This bitter heart can't even be grateful to you,
better not take this cup up and drink.
This bitter heart can't even be grateful to you,
better not take this cup up and drink.
Is it truly you, bearing gifts on the crimson tide?
Is it truly you, bare and cold on a hill so high?
Is it true?
This bitter heart can't even be grateful to you,
better not take this cup up and drink.

This bitter heart can't even be loyal to you,
better not take this cross up and drive.
This bitter heart can't even be loyal to you,
better not take this cross up and drive.
But I'm drawn, drawn, drawn to the golden road.
People say that it's straight and narrow,
but it's not.
This bitter heart can't even be loyal to you,
better not take this cross up and drive.

And who learns to live in your love?
And who sees the sign of the dove?
And who is ever good enough?

This bitter heart can't even say sorry to you,
better not sweep this dust from my eyes.
This bitter heart can't even say sorry to you,
better not sweep this dust from my eyes.
But I long, long, long, long to see you clearly.
People say if I pray, you will hear me,
but I want to hear you.
This bitter heart can't even say sorry to you,
better not sweep this dust from my eyes.