I never really learned to pray,
I wasn't aware of any guilt,
I never liked going to church as a child,
I rarely visited you voluntarily.
I've been bitter so many times cried
On these hard wooden benches.
I'm back to be close to you,
Don't know where else to look for you.
I'm here to talk to you,
Are you listening to me?
Who decides when to die
And how much guilt do you bear?
You don't have to give me any mercy gift,
I don't need a new friend either.
Only one question burns in me:
What did you mean by salvation?
I'm here to talk to you ,
Are you listening to me?
Have you ever read the Bible yourself?
Are you just an experiment?
And every death drives me here...
Why do I expect comfort from you?
I'm here to talk to you,
Are you listening to me?
When you're in me and I'm in you:
Who is I and who is you?
It's as if I have no name,
I'm just an attempt.
I'm a compass without a needle,
I'm just like you .

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS