Do we still really believe that God changed His mind
When He gave us the choice to be free?
Did He give us the choice to just make up His mind
And tell others what Life’s rules would be?
Can the Object of Scorn and the Idol of Pride
Do they feel the stir of Creation’s hand?
Is the product of home more equal than one
Who came from a far away land?
Is the mystery so clear there’s no question at all?
 Is it true that we don’t understand?

Was it Two thousand years, or a week in the past;
Lived by others in lives long ago?
When did they make up their minds, could they see no more,
And believe the last die had been cast?
Was the "True Way" lost, was the "Real Script" burned?
Did other players come up on the stage.
To replay the play that was written before;
Before all their lines had been learned?
Do we now sit in our seats just nodding our heads
And pretend that we all understand?

Seems so simple to me that we don’t understand
Because freedom is not really free!
And the price we must pay is too high to be paid
So we’re deaf to Creation’s demand.
And its easier, by far, to be lost in the plot
And sit silent in deep silence alone.
We don't feel for others, different somehow
And reach out for friends who are not.
So we leave with a smile and are glad that we came,
But it’s true that we don’t understand.

So He’ll come on the stage, when the player’s have gone
Then He'll make the words clear in our mind
But the house is now empty, there’s no one around;
So He leaves and we’re all left behind.
And we sit, though we’re lost; in a land far away
So now we’re lost and we don’t understand.