Please tell me what it is I used to do.
Was I not a prophet, or a dreamer, or a seer?
All people I had fooled.
Please tell me who it is used to be.
Did I not proselytize over land and sea,
Begetting twice the sons of hell as me?
And tell me, Lord,
Who holds the key the heaven's narrow doors?
'Cause every time I try to open them
I open my right hand and find a stone
And with my left,
Outstretched for every gift that I produce,
I lay in wait for seven more
To compensate for every gift that I misuse
Oh, in all I've done
I've done all in vain
'Till I learned to say,
Thy will be done
In all I was,
I was all in vain
I will learn to obey,
Thy will be done.
All who hold to the words to surrender all
To who gives and takes away, and builds from naught.