Good God, If Your song leaves our lips If Your work leaves our hands Then we will be wanderers and vagabonds They will stare and see how empty we are Now the freedom we had turned us up as dead men Let us be cold, make us weak Let us because we all have ears Let us because we all have eyes Good God, How they knew that this would happen (we're so run down) Good God, can You still get us home... How can we still get home I'm not dreaming We're forgetting our forgiveness.