Purpose Circus

Can there really be any sort of purpose
To this crazy game of trying to get around
Or are we just clowns performing in a circus,
Being laughed at by an audience we've not found?

I don't reckon there's a reason
I see no point in being around
No way do I believe in reason -
I'm just accepting what I've found:

People going 'round in endless circles
Lost and feeling all alone
Life's just one big endless circle
And you've got to get around it on your own...

Finding God

The God who was
is not the God who is:
that God is dead,
slaughtered
by the insanity
of humanity.

Where are you now, my God?
My God, my God...
The cry of a mother
who lost her child
My God, my God...
The cry of a child
who lost his mother
My God, my God...
The cry of a God crucified
who lost himself.

Where are you now, my God?
Is that your face I see
in a beer glass...
in the roots of a tree...
in me?

What kind of God are you?
A delusion? A dream?
A home I can run to
when the fire falls
and the bombs explode
and the bullets scream
and the blood flows
and my tears stream,
never ending,
down my face?

I fear, my God,
that I shall never find you
unless you first find me.