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how can it be

how can it be
    that sweat, and blood, and thorns
       should be glory

and how can you see
    broken limbs, torn flesh and a gouged side
       and call it might

and can it be that even in our midst
    in withered and fading bodies
       you light a fire
          that burns brighter than the sun

do you have an answer lord?

how can it be
    that this world so wracked with pain
       you made it and called it good

and how can it be
    that while so many starve
       we should ask for daily bread

do you have an answer lord?

and you give us an answer
    and he cries
    and wets himself,
    and sucks on a breast

you give us an answer
    and he makes friends
    drinks wine
    and parties

you give us an answer
    and he dies

yet it is a good answer lord,
    a very good answer
    the best