|
In the ebb and flow of living |
|
As we wander through the years |
|
We're told to listen to a voice |
|
We can't here with our ears |
|
They say to live by something |
|
That you can't see with your eyes |
|
Is there really any purpose |
|
To this foolish exercise? |
|
Chorus |
|
Could it be You make Your presence known |
|
So often by Your absence? |
|
Could it be that questions tell us more |
|
Than answers ever do? |
|
Could it be that You would really rather die |
|
Than live without us? |
|
Could it be the only answer that means anything |
|
Is You? |
|
In our words and in our silence |
|
In our pride and in our shame |
|
To the genius and the scholar |
|
To the foolish and insane |
|
To the ones who care to seek You |
|
To the ones who never will |
|
You are the only answer even still |
|
Chorus |
|
It's a question you can't answer |
|
An answer you cannot express |
|
That the gentle Man of Sorrow |
|
Is the source of happiness |
|
You'll never solve the mystery |
|
Of this magnetic man |
|
For you must believe to understand |
|
Chorus |
|
Could it be the only answer that means anything |
|
Is You? |