Many questions of the heart,
Each one asks naught but why,
If God is true why is it so?
Why do those loved so much still die?

But are these queries ever answered?
Does darkness rain from stars?
To questions’ lies waits no reply,
Truth burnt away, left only scars.

For if truth be offered, ears they deafen,
Souls they wither and eyes they’re draining,
Why can’t you accept all your invalid questions,
Are in your own little world where it’s constantly raining?

So why indeed I ask you now,
Why ask for truth yet block what’s true?
You ask him why then disappear,
Running from truth, away into your fear.

So why have ears when you don't listen?
Why have souls when you don’t feel?
And why have eyes when you don’t see,
Everything that’s real?

Though his answers you refuse to perceive,
To these questions few do listen clear,
If graves are dead then tell me now,
Why each day you cry their lonely tear.

And tell me now that they are gone,
Open your eyes to hearts lie,
Tell me they’re not with you every day,
I ask you now, did they really die?

 
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