Inventing Irony

Oh, Lord, what have you asked of me
Where must I go, what are you leading me into
Have we forsaken you
In our death, in our struggles

You are the fountain of living waters
Source and sustainer of our next breath
And we invented irony
When we tried to store up water for ourselves
In broken cisterns that hold nothing at all

I surely have had another love apart from you
You’ve surely looked away as I have knocked on certain doors
But I’m turning around, running home, crying
Abba, father, take me back into your arms
My soul thirsts for thee alone
You are resolution and backbone

I have perfected the art of chaining both arms to the ground
All by myself, and I was proud, so hollow
Now I know no other practice in and of myself
But I thirsted for you, you are living water
And when I was weak, you died for me
To set me free


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