[Verse 1] I built an altar out of granite dust, Where iron bars are quieted by rust. They stripped the linen mantle from my skin, And left no silver cup to pour within. Down here, the dark is heavy as a stone, A narrow hollow where the shadows groan, Yet beneath the weight of quiet clay, I strip the bitter edge of grief away.

[Chorus] Let the hammer fall, let the furnace burn, Every breath I surrender, every lesson I learn. Cast to the floor where the deep waters swell, I take up the fire and I suffer well. Not broken, not darkened, not bent by the rod, A pulse keeping time with the mercy of God. In the belly of stone, beneath silence and spell, I guard the white ember—and I suffer well.

[Verse 2] I weigh my sins against an open sky, to which I pray as I think of my life, My heart was stitched with brittle- dry thread, Locked in an iron coffer with the dead. Yet here I lay my weapons on the floor; I take the vows and swear to sin no more. His are the hands that lift or leave below, And to the root of grace alone I go.

[Bridge] [Synth Solo - aching, surging analog oscillator lines swell over heavy sub-bass]

Not an orphan of wrath, but an exile refined, Leaving the counterfeit mercies behind. If the abyss is the place where the judgment is cast, Then love is the current that claims me at last.

[Chorus] Let the hammer fall, let the furnace burn, Every breath I surrender, every lesson I learn. Cast to the floor where the deep waters swell, I take up the fire and I suffer well. Not broken, not darkened, not bent by the rod, A pulse keeping time with the mercy of God. In the belly of stone, beneath silence and spell, I guard the white ember—and I suffer well.

[Outro] [Synth Solo fades into a cathedral-like harmonic pad] Thine is the righteousness; mine is the kneeling. Thine is the silence; mine is the healing. In the pit where the holy and wounded reside, I suffer well, With nothing left to hide. I suffer well.