Lord,
Please tell me what it is I used to do.
Was I not a prophet, or a dreamer, or a seer?

All people I had fooled.

Please tell me who it is used to be.

Did I not proselytize over land and sea,
Begetting twice the sons of hell as me?


And tell me, Lord,
Who holds the key the heaven's narrow doors?
'Cause every time I try to open them

I open my right hand and find a stone

And with my left,

Outstretched for every gift that I produce,
I lay in wait for seven more
To compensate for every gift that I misuse


Oh, in all I've done
I've done all in vain

'Till I learned to say,
Thy will be done


In all I was,
I was all in vain
I will learn to obey,

Thy will be done.

All who hold to the words to surrender all

To who gives and takes away, and builds from naught.