| Alone in his empty room
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| He read that book page by page
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| In search of truth
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| Of comfort or some hope
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| He read If you knock, my door will open
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| But those he tried were all locked tight
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| Like flickering lights
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| Bits of memories crossed his mind
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| Countless shattered pieces
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| That refused to fall in place
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| He read I’ll search for all the lost ones
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| But how much more lost could he be
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| He shook his fist at heaven
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| Stood up for all the broken souls
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| I will not forget the words
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| He spoke to me that day
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| He said Man, if you believe, would you ask one question
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| In my name because to me God never speaks:
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| Does he still rest on Sundays, and look at his creation
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| And think it was good?
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| He could barely breathe
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| Hardly grab just one clear thought
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| The walls were closing in on him
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| His time was running out
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| He read If you ask, you will be given
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| And he thought of everything he had lost
|
| He shook his fist at heaven
|
| Stood up for all the broken souls
|
| I will not forget the words
|
| He spoke to me that day
|
| He said Man, if you believe, would you ask one question
|
| In my name because to me God never speaks:
|
| Does he still rest on Sundays, and look at his creation
|
| And think it was good?
|
| Does he think it was good?
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| It was a brief encounter
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| But after all these years it’s still on my mind
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| Nobody mourned for him
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| There were no flowers on his grave
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| I hope at last you got your answer
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| And if so, would you let me know? |