Cities to the Sword

It is I who takes righteousness And casts it to the ground And the thought of living above reproach? I am sickened by the sound While I devour the homes of widows All to my own gain These prayers are a performance from which Humbleness abstains Shepherd I'm lost and afraid But you know where I am Won't you come to save this wandering lamb? (It is here where sin dwells) Inside this tattered cage that holds this ruptured heart If there was no such thing as grace You'd not come to save but to tear me apart For he who lives by the sword will surely die by it, too So with ego, pride, and selfishness I beg thee, run me through What a wretch I have become Defiled these gifts of heart and mind You love in such increasing sums That never fails to balance out my pride For when this chalice has been emptied And all it's contents have been poured We'll set your fields to the torches We'll put your cities to the sword