Verse 1 Sunday shoes and a preacher’s grin, “God is love,” let the choir begin. Then I opened up the Good Book’s page… Felt like I’d stepped into a devil’s rage Abraham climbed that alter’s hill, Knife held high by Heaven’s will. Then came, “Stop! It was just a test.” I wonder… should God pass my ethical test? Pre-Chorus If my neighbor did these things, Would we call him holy? Or would twelve strangers find him guilty, Hog-tie him, string him up to die. Chorus So tell me… Where’s the line? How did we allow this kind of justice to become divine? God can Kill, Mass Murder! Egypt, Sodom and Gomorrah If power makes the rules, Could I ever act that way? We’re singing “Hallelujah,” Hands up to the sky. But I’ve got questions No one likes. Dance with me… Think with me… Maybe faith and doubt Can both breathe. Verse 2 Fire fell on Sodom’s streets, Salt where someone’s wife once stood. Egypt cried at morning light, Firstborn gone before daylight. Flood waters rose, the ark rode high Mothers, Fathers, every kid all but the floaters died Some call it judgment. Some call it grace. Egypt. Sodom. Gomorrah. Really? Tell me to my face. I’m still searching for that place. I’m still searching to understand this kind of grace How’s this not a dishonorable disgrace Pre-Chorus If a king did all of this, History would not judge him kind When Heaven wears the crown… Do we judge it different? Chorus So tell me… Where’s the line? God can Kill, Mass Murder! Egypt, Sodom and Gomorrah How did such justice become divine? If power makes the rules, Could I ever act that way? We’re singing “Hallelujah,” Hands up to the sky. But I’ve got questions No one likes. Dance with me… Think with me… Maybe faith and doubt Can both breathe. Bridge (half-time, then builds) Maybe I’ve missed something. Maybe I don’t see. Maybe there’s a mercy Hidden underneath. Or maybe asking questions Isn’t disbelief… Maybe truth’s big enough To survive me. Final Chorus So tell me… Who’s to blame? Are we different… Or the same? If we’re made In God’s image, What reflection should we be? Love our enemies? Turn the other cheek? Or read the stories… Then quietly with blind faith agree? I’m still dancing. Still listening. Still asking. Somewhere… Between the pews There must be A better hew to this cruel truth.
