| Wandered deserts striking stones
|
| Sweat our blood in the olive groves
|
| Now two whole years with no reply
|
| Should we give sacrifice a try?
|
| Still don’t know where I went wrong
|
| Our pale horses riding all day long
|
| And i can’t tell where you went
|
| Or who it was that really left
|
| But when I pass those stained glass halls
|
| I find you you filling up my head again
|
| With Easter Sunday sacraments
|
| When I was just a kid
|
| Playing games and pulling tricks out of our sleeves
|
| But I can’t tell if we’re talking
|
| You’re the same voice that I hear inside of me
|
| When I’m too tired to think
|
| Like a lamp light through the window in a starless sky
|
| I never thought of you
|
| As something I could lose
|
| The spirit and the bride
|
| The love of all my life
|
| A family gathered where you lay
|
| We laid our hands upon and prayed
|
| Until they pulled me from my knees
|
| And said «It's time for you to leave»
|
| But I know the wonder working Lord
|
| And I heard He’s raising from the dead again
|
| The stories about Lazarus
|
| Might be more than make believe
|
| My lord is faithful
|
| Please take your hands off me
|
| Now I don’t hear you talking
|
| No more comfort in the stories that I read
|
| And I’m out of thoughts to think
|
| The second coming saviour running late this time
|
| And now I think I see what Lazarus taught me
|
| The way he must’ve been surprised
|
| The second time he died |