He breaths the wind
And it blows
To stir the earth
To nudge the waves to and fro
Mighty are his gentle hands
So matchless
So scarred
To shape the lives of common man
Sometimes I ask to empty skies
Where proof is
Where truth lives
Still searching for a Thomas sign
But do I need to see the scars
Or simply count the hosts of stars?
And it blows
To stir the earth
To nudge the waves to and fro
Mighty are his gentle hands
So matchless
So scarred
To shape the lives of common man
Sometimes I ask to empty skies
Where proof is
Where truth lives
Still searching for a Thomas sign
But do I need to see the scars
Or simply count the hosts of stars?