how clean is a hand that's a handful of little things?
no matter the size, the color,and the weight it bore
it's never clean, no matter how empty
how clean is a hand that's a handful of mud?
washed it all over, but the stink,
it's still there, it never would leave
how clear is an eye to see a handful
no matter the vision, the color, and the sight it bore
it's never clear, no matter how fair
how clear is an eye to a handful of dust
rub it against the handful, what do you get?
it'll never be clean, nor clear, nor perfect
how pure is one's soul that's mortal in nature?
living, existing in a world of perfection
cast no sin, speak nothing bad
and then we'll see, in His time
the clean, the clear,
from this handful of tears...
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