circumstances circle over me like vultures
waiting to pick my flesh to the bones
under the heat of the dog-day sun

but simply speaking in the Spirit
gives skeletons their resurrection

they hang from worn mic cords
every time I open my closet

frozen while grinning over my past mistakes

the insults that I shouldn't have said
the fists that I came close to swinging
the responsibilities that I dumped to the side
when devils invited me to pity parties

thank God that He came
to hang out and eat with sinners

else I guarantee that my bones
would still be drying in a graveyard
sweltered with the breath of guilt