How is it that one does want?
And how is it that one finds life?
And how is it that one believes?
Down in this pit of grief and strife.
How is it that trust maintains?
When I can’t trust myself
And where is it, this dusty thing?
Hidden on some dusty shelf.
How do people feel that life
Is wholly still unfair?
How do people feel like that?
Breathing in this air.
What’s inside cannot be faked
And we have no control
What do you oh Lord and God
Seek from this poor soul?
Make in me what I cannot
Put in me this heart
Cause me to desire things
And I will have to start.
