Enslaved to the dirt From the moment of birth. Do we only live to die And unite with the earth?

A spec on the canvas. A fraction of infinity. What’s the point to all this When it ends so quickly?

We wander this world, With a hole in our chest. Can we pack this infinite void With the things we love best?

Once we think we’re more full than others We pride ourselves to help the ill fed. But aren’t we just beggars Telling beggars where to find bread?

When the things of this world have sliped away It’s apparent how much deeper a hole we made. We may have helped others along the way, But we’ve all fallen further from the truth we crave.

In a life so miniscule Where possessions are king, Is there any hope In finding eternity?

In our endless search for things that remain We’ve found our property only disintegrates. How can we find what truly sustains When all reality has been reduced to a game?

But In this circus of beggars The Truth did descend. Perfect love made flesh To take upon all our sin.

As the living bread he appeared to us A hope that outlasts this ball of dust. How can we know this Jesus When he’s less tangible than our stuff?

Little did we know When we just open our eyes We see pieces of him All throughout our lives.

But in the end the choice is ours To take the living bread or bread that devours. Will we beggars accept the promise That our Lord has been crucified to give us?

Even if you choose the former Your life doesn’t become a jovial story. There’s a raging battle for your heart A never ending storm of temptation to fight.

In the times we think we’re alone His victory is already set in stone. Will we decide to wake from this fantasy Or let the sacred raisen cake divide our morality?

We are all beggars Looking for bread. Will we find it above Or within ourselves?