What be we without God
but foolish beasts, no more
our feats, but monumental falls
our art, but a child skribbles
our writing chicken skrawl
our monuments, but piles of stones
there is no use to life
but with this God we know and love
we have purpose to live
and reason to die
but foolish beasts, no more
our feats, but monumental falls
our art, but a child skribbles
our writing chicken skrawl
our monuments, but piles of stones
there is no use to life
but with this God we know and love
we have purpose to live
and reason to die