If born alive with spirit dead,
I’m dead to God as just a kid;
cut off from God, I’m all alone:
with blinded eyes, the truth unknown.

The Scriptures speak a different tale:
God’s wondrous works in grand detail
are proof of God for all to see,
revealed to all humanity.

What do I do since God is true?
Should I do more to know him too?
Or do I muff my ears to him,
lest he confront me ’bout my sin?

I was not born with spirit dead,
for I acknowledge what God said;
that’s why I keep on telling lies
to justify what I devise.

I also know I’m dead in sin,
corrupted by a curse within:
from dust of ground and into me,
my flesh condemned by God’s decree.

That’s why I’m tempted when enticed
and drawn away by sin’s delights;
if lust conceives, I go all-in:
denying truth with every sin.

But God did not abandon me;
it’s him I flee from knowingly;
I’m not inept to seek the Lord,
but love of self I shan’t ignore.