Our venom remains a mystery to most of us
Our thoughts wander to find one to blame
We yield unreasonable wrath towards our family
A habit of misplaced fault to cover our sins grows to lust
Yet judgment of our own selves remains tame

We blame familiar spirits for our vicious words
Yet it was born from our own heart
Foolish words flee our tongues as birds
Costly assumptions lets our favor depart

Our venom often flows not from those around us
It comes from within
The planting of a poisonous seed
Ignorance of faith breeds frustration
Searching for handouts after every deed
Inane thirst for timely blessings begets aberration
Contorted love for the King paves way to a failing mind
Our soul becomes tethered to venom to serve as a cure

The wicked venom and righteous elixir soon collide
We become enslaved to our own vice
We are the venom