What wicked ways have tortured
My now weeping body,
When my mind and body sin,
My soul cries out for my savior,
To strengthen and comfort this weak
And shivering, denied love, spirit;
I am not strong, not worthy
Of the gift our Lord God has given;
When I stand abreast of so many
My mind is lost in the darkness;
It seems the lion rips from my
Form and wreaks havoc and chaos with
What he can see before his animalistic eyes;
The house on the far ridge
Crumples in the howling winds;
The shield I possess drifts
And fades from my grasp.
The world explodes before my sunken eyes
And then my lungs seem to implode,
The beast stands laughing at my pain,
The inner lion possesses this mortal form as he will,
The struggle like a never ceasing lava flow,
To grasp my own destiny and life,
To have the strength to say no;
Why does my body scream and fight so?
What curse has this body brought upon itself?
When I see such beauty or sense
That sweet smell that calls to the lion;
By blood and fire does he spring with
All of the power endowed to him by
My own mind, my own choice,
Yet, it seems the choice is not my own;
The ground shakes wildly as
He feast upon that lovely form,
And enjoys ever last tender moment.
Then there is a flash of light,
And a strong gust of wind,
A man standing, dagger in hand
Grabs the lion by the neck,
Though he does not kill it;
He struggles against its power,
Fighting with his evil, wicked side;
Is he losing to this creature,
What power could stand against it?

Then by the strength that created him
And with the hand and power of Christ
He locks the lion inside his own body,
Only with the strength of God and
The help of his Savior can he survive;
Let us rejoice in our Lord for
His divine grace and sacrifice,
We are strong in the Lord,
And in the power of his might.