I am the comfortable secure   The definition of this western world   And I have perfected deceit   Even I believe I am above saving      I’ll never let you see      I am the broken   I am the bruised   I am the poor ones   I have been used      It takes me falling to the ground   To admit to fully needing you   Then when I’m breathing my last breath   Come and save me, I will cry to you      ‘Cause pride has not let me say      I am the broken   I am the bruised   I am the poor ones   I have been used      Why does it take so much to bring me to my knees   Why does it take so much pain for me to see   If strength is only found when I am on my knees   Why is it so hard to show that I am weak      I am the broken   I am the bruised   I am the poor ones   I have been used