One True King

"I stand before you here with nothing to say
My empty words are hollow - a vain cliche
I question who I am and why you made me so
yet these questions aren't for me to ask - I know..."

Six billion hungry people
without a name or face
spinning through the darkness
on a rock out in space.
Each has their own concoction
in the gray between their ears
of the meaning of this life,
a mix of laughter and tears.
Some say we're random elements
of an evolutionary fluke,
just roll the dice and we're
the accident that happens.
Some say we're drifters on the
winds of fickle circumstance,
some say we're ships set sail
on the random sea of chance.
Are we masters of our fate
or just a struggle for survival?
Are we animals with faces,
are we creatures of denial?
Is there some higher purpose
or some meaning just above
the things we live and die for,
the things we hate and love?
Are we just a mix of chemicals
that respond to stimuli,
or are we creatures with souls
that live on when we die?

CHORUS
What are we? What are we?
What are we? What are we?
Can you tell me my friend?
Do you think you really know?
What are we? What are we?
Seems like such a contradiction,
these creatures that we are -
we try to tear down all of heaven
yet can not reach the closest star.

Our technology has given us
a power like some lesser god,
but it can not fill our hunger
or break through our thick facade.
And all our knowledge is increasing,
by leaps and bounds our precious youth
fill their heads with information
while they starve to death for truth.
We can move mountains to the sea,
fill arid desserts up with lakes,
harness the power of the sun
and clone the things our Maker makes.

But inside us there's such emptiness,
we're just dieing for a word
from the lips of our Creator
to make sense of this absurd
world that we've created
but no longer can control,
we need more than what we are
to be completely whole.
Is there some purpose to the struggle
we endure to obtain
all the things our hearts desire
our do our hearts thirst in vain?

CHORUS

Some try to dodge the answer,
they just push it from their mind
but as the years pass by
they wander through them blind
only later to discover
that they can't escape the question
of who they are and why they're here,
for in the end they must define
what part they play of hell or heaven,
what piece they are in the design.
And maybe we're creatures of wonder
made of spirit and dust -
maybe we're vagrant tragedies
plagued by lonliness and lust.
Are we deluded beasts with clothing
walking down each city street
as we prey upon each other,
as we victimize the weak?
Or are we creatures of eternity
who bear upon our soul
the evil and the good we do
to take its final toll?
But in this world of computers,
in this sea of machines
nothing's ever fast enough,
nothing's ever what it seems
and we're so busy trying to
catch up we can not see
that we've been left so far behind
by the One who set us free...

CHORUS