It's Tuesday Morning and my wife is screaming.
It strikes me odd as I've done nothing wrong.
Not too far away a flood of questions for God
Fall to the ground in vein... Upon deaf ears?
Sinners or Saints.
Living or about to die.
The question's still the same... why?
Like towers we stand together.
And like Towers we fall
Family, friend or enemy we are dust when God calls
When we wipe it from our eyes we finally see the truth.
That we started all the same.
Before the blame, before the shame of it all.
It's just another Tuesday and I'm still angry.
That's nothing odd, so is everyone else.
Very far away we're still dying for the answers.
And God just watches since it's nothing new.
Sinners turned to Saints.
Forgiven when about to die.
The questions still remain... why?
Like towers we stand together.
And like Towers we fall
Family, friend or enemy we are dust when God calls
When we wipe it from our eyes we finally see the truth.
That we started all the same.
Before the blame, before the shame of it all.
We have every right to blame.
But don't expect God to change.
My children ask about a Tuesday many years ago.
It strikes me odd as worse has come and gone.
Maybe because I'm old they think I have answers from God.
Sorry, he rarely talks but hears every word... except the blame.
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