For I had forgotten why I had left,
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
I closed my eyes, in my bed,
and shut everything down.
No sight, no sound, no thoughts around.
And I believed - did I believe?
Tried to believe with all my heart
Imagined God on his throne there
so real in the world I paint with thoughts.
Jesus and Mary and the angelic choir,
and I as a sinner, and I knelt and I begged.
I asked forgiveness, to recieve me back.
I asked for Jesus to come talk to me.
I said the words and meant them
as hard as I could to try to return.
For I had forgotten why I had left,
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
I made the picture, and waited.
I waited.
I waited.
I waited for the touch, for the knowledge inside.
Like they all say, when you're saved you'll know it.
I held that portrait in my heart, waiting
for the touch of God to make it fast.
For I had forgotten why I had left
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
Cried out to Jesus in that sleep,
Come talk to me, your lonely sheep.
Respond for once, by any means
In feelings, thoughts, or in dreams
The angels sang, and God was still,
and Jesus and Mary sat by him.
Cried out, "I am a sinner, Lord,
For once, just send a whisper!"
For I had forgotten why I had left
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
But the tears flowed, and the portrait melted.
For no touch of God came to my heart.
No hint, no whisper, no thread of Joy,
nothing to show he cared at all for me.
Christians, I did what you wanted me to.
And all I have recieved is a flood of despair
in a cold empty bed.
How wonderful God is when you see him.
How glorious, his love, how exultant.
You lucky Christians, embraced in love
when the crucified one holds but the nails from her cross.
No, young Christians who glory in God,
I don't believe you know what you speak.
Of pain and despair, you've not tasted the cup.
I have drunk one draught, and I weep for those
who drink all their days of that poisoned mix.
I know I am lucky with only one cup.
I cannot tell you what true persecution is.
And I am not so wicked as to wish it on you.
I have tasted it's bread, foullness unspeakable,
and I weep for those who eat it all their days.
I cry for the days when I was a child
and life was happiness and sheltered
and sadness was a scape of the knee
and loneliness was cured by running to Nana's bed.
...
I believe not in God because he shows himself not,
like he apparently does to the lucky innocents.
If it was so easy to give me one touch...
if it is so easy, and you do it not...
if you comfort not the bereft of joy and hope...
then God, thy name is cruelty.
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
I closed my eyes, in my bed,
and shut everything down.
No sight, no sound, no thoughts around.
And I believed - did I believe?
Tried to believe with all my heart
Imagined God on his throne there
so real in the world I paint with thoughts.
Jesus and Mary and the angelic choir,
and I as a sinner, and I knelt and I begged.
I asked forgiveness, to recieve me back.
I asked for Jesus to come talk to me.
I said the words and meant them
as hard as I could to try to return.
For I had forgotten why I had left,
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
I made the picture, and waited.
I waited.
I waited.
I waited for the touch, for the knowledge inside.
Like they all say, when you're saved you'll know it.
I held that portrait in my heart, waiting
for the touch of God to make it fast.
For I had forgotten why I had left
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
Cried out to Jesus in that sleep,
Come talk to me, your lonely sheep.
Respond for once, by any means
In feelings, thoughts, or in dreams
The angels sang, and God was still,
and Jesus and Mary sat by him.
Cried out, "I am a sinner, Lord,
For once, just send a whisper!"
For I had forgotten why I had left
and so alone I was, I wanted to be back.
But the tears flowed, and the portrait melted.
For no touch of God came to my heart.
No hint, no whisper, no thread of Joy,
nothing to show he cared at all for me.
Christians, I did what you wanted me to.
And all I have recieved is a flood of despair
in a cold empty bed.
How wonderful God is when you see him.
How glorious, his love, how exultant.
You lucky Christians, embraced in love
when the crucified one holds but the nails from her cross.
No, young Christians who glory in God,
I don't believe you know what you speak.
Of pain and despair, you've not tasted the cup.
I have drunk one draught, and I weep for those
who drink all their days of that poisoned mix.
I know I am lucky with only one cup.
I cannot tell you what true persecution is.
And I am not so wicked as to wish it on you.
I have tasted it's bread, foullness unspeakable,
and I weep for those who eat it all their days.
I cry for the days when I was a child
and life was happiness and sheltered
and sadness was a scape of the knee
and loneliness was cured by running to Nana's bed.
...
I believe not in God because he shows himself not,
like he apparently does to the lucky innocents.
If it was so easy to give me one touch...
if it is so easy, and you do it not...
if you comfort not the bereft of joy and hope...
then God, thy name is cruelty.