No more than a hundred years are we given
And we spend most of that to sruvive than barely living
As soon as we’re born, we’re starting to die, to be immortal is still just a lie
Running a race, no one is winning
Is it true in one man, we are forgiven
That he held our souls in his hands from the beginning
Or is this just one chance that we get to live our lives without regret
pay no heed to whether or not we are sinning
Will we live forever, will the saints receive their crowns
Will we be remembered, when we’re six feet under the ground
Or can a short life, still make a mighty sound
All the wars and disease and the cries and pleas and the fearing,
and the faith that we had long ago now disappearing
Millions of souls beg you to hear, for most of us you’re hardly near
We still pray, hoping you’re listening
Will this last forever, will our hopes and dreams be drowned
Our prayers never remembered as our tears soaked through the ground
Or can a small voice still make a mighty sound
Can a fearful heart still find courage when there’s no more faith to be found
Can a broken world, still make a mighty sound
Will we live forever, will the lost and last be found
Our sorrows never remembered, as every knee falls to the ground
And a short life will make a mighty,
and a million voices will make a mighty,
and a broken world will make a mighty sound
