In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every
Newborn seed.
There's a dying voice within me reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake.
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand.
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear.
Like criminals, they have choked the breath
Of conscience and good cheer.
But the sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered, like every grain of sand.I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a
Wintry night
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's
Only me.
I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand - Bob Dylan
