Doubting, trying   Not to look at the face if the man who is dying   To look for the face of the man who is lying   The ambler gambler is low and loaded   His rusty steed turns to burn into my soul   I hear the cries   My body lies in sanctuary   The long way home I cannot seek   He knows the pain its special place   I know it's look I know your face      White silver draws black lines   Bright whites the killing kind   Two wrongs don't make a right   Two blacks don't make a white   Devotion isn't what it seems   The broker of my broken dreams   Hell is all what I can see   My cell is my sanctuary      There's a black space where my soul should be   A gaping wound where my heart could be   I feel so low I feel like Christ   I see my head is turning white   The knuckles twisted raw and I'm so empty   And there's no respite   You prey together on the small   Hell vision shows it every night      White silver draws black lines   Bright whites the killing kind   Two wrongs don't make a right   Two blacks don't make a white   Devotion isn't what it seems   The broker of my broken dreams   Hell is all what I can see   My cell is my sanctuary