Sometimes I can not forgive and these days mercy cuts so deep.
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep.
While I lay, I’d dream we’re better, scales were gone and faces lighter.
When we wake we hate our brother, we still move to hurt each other.
Sometimes I can close my eyes and all the fear the keeps me silent,
falls below my heavy breathing, what makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder, we all have the need for wonder.
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the plunder.
Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven,
all the times I thought to reach up, all the times I had to give up.
Babies underneath their beds, in hospitals that cannot treat them.
All the wounds that money causes, all the comforts of cathedrals,
All the cries of thirsty children, this is our inheritance.
All the rage of watching mothers, this is our greatest offense.
Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.
– from Oh My God by Jars of Clay