When you work

And toil

And when it all boils down 

You wonder

You wonder

(In between the the thunder)

What you're escaping, what you're running from?

Who's the magician in the sky who makes magic on earth?

And why bow down to Him?

When He leads you into the dark holes and you 

Don't know where to look.

Where's the hook?

"Hold my hand"

But the hand you held will take you down dark paths. 

It's confusing in our brain because sometimes,

Just sometimes

Those paths look like light.

And we don't know whether to look up or down,

Left or right.

Like a bright, white elephant in the room, when we touch it, it turns to dust before our very eyes.

And we have none left to do, but play in the sand.