Analysis of "baby"

Last night I told you of my fate,
my conclusions that I can not face,
except for the most intimate thoughts,
of shame that rang through. I am lost.

Knowing what you see I can be,
myself without the battle baby,
cried myself to sleep under the tears,
knowing you had too with my fear.

That I was right. I'm the devil,
it's a little known fact. I'm not dead.
I carry that around with my dull-drums,
that I can't be happy, seldom.

Although, I have made a lifetime,
of digging my own grave, now I climb,
scratch and crawl to believe baby,
that I can be with my Lady.