We're dead in sin, we're corpses!
We are the guilty, the zombies of depravity, consumed in darkness, in shadows of the Death Valley.
Turning in our graves, we're restless; there is no escape; helplessly digging toward nothing in this empty place.
No one here is righteous, no, there's not even one.
We all practice deceit and our lips drip poison.
Contorted corpses.
We are all dead men.
We are cursed through the man of dust, wretched, full of sin, there's nothing good within us.
Born under the curse, carcasses dead in transgressions with no hope inside of ourselves; our self-destruction.
We're so swift to shed blood, misery marks our ways.
With no knowledge of peace, there's no fear of the Lord.
While rotting in our sin, unable to reach out, God declared His chosen.
The covenant of grace, proclaimed through history, God's plan for redemption.

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