| Turn the lights on, look at what I have
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| See the twisted trophies of a dead man
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| Countless stories tell of sin and pain
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| But they sing the sweetness of my Savior’s grace
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| I’m a torn man, spirit fighting flesh
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| There’s a battle raging deep in my chest
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| And all that haunts me, all that leaves a stain
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| Only sings the sweetness of my Savior’s grace
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| A fortunate fall
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| My sins are stories of grace to recall
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| A fortunate fall
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| I glory in my sins forgiven
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| Jesus bought me, and now I am His
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| Dying with Him, in His death I now live
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| And all my vices, to which I was chained
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| Only speak the sweetness of my Savior’s grace
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| A fortunate fall
|
| My sins are stories of grace to recall
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| A fortunate fall
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| I glory in my sins forgiven
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| And still I’m a wicked, wretched man
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| I do everything I hate
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| I am fighting to be God
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| I seethe and claw and thrash and shake
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| I have killed and stacked the dead
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| On a throne from which I reign
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| In the end I just want blood
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| And with His blood my hands are stained
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| See the God who reigns on high
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| He has opened His own veins
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| From His wounds a rushing torrent
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| That can wash it all away
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| Grace upon grace
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| Upon grace upon grace
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| Grace, oh!
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| Grace upon grace upon grace
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| Grace upon grace upon grace
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| Fall, it’s a fortunate fall |