Rupture, momentum, a mighty squall,
Look at them, it’s no use to run
When under a wall fifty miles tall
Was this Your will being done?
Their love for You, misunderstood
in a war that’s never won.
In a crowd a man erupts in powder and blood
Even here, will Your will be done?
Make two towers into one,
Of steel, glass, bones and fire.
When will Your will be done?
The sky and the dirt drawn together.
In the mud is dropped heaven’s son.
To a post of wood a dead man tethered
Your will is done.