Question Marks

Question Marks - Shad Lyrics

What’s with this book now?

Looks like any other good brown hardcover book bound,

The type really took down in the libraries destined for

dust

That people can’t quite put down or brush off

Even though it’s been labeled hateful,

Abused to validate racial subjugation and justify

hatred

It just defies explanation, how pages could be both

burned and bashed,

Learned and loved, hated, yet translated into every

single tongue.

If this was just some regular book then how come?

And even these divisions it caused is all for proof,

As we find extreme reactions wherever there is truth.

And why have we heard it quoted a billion times?

Could it be more than just some brilliant lines?

A simple tradition to keep men so engaged in the pages,

By something beyond even the statements,

In the way the scribes, from different tribes,

In different places at different times, could all

scribble lines.

But without collusion perfectly coincide,

And connect like pieces of a puzzle

Made from parables, and prophecies,

Parallels and paradoxes that seem to unlock the

mysteries,

As we watch the history unfold,

Just as it was foretold

The scrolls unrolled to reveal

Words with that strongest trained sense of all things

real,

Could it be made up or actually, factually be?

Scholars have tested the historical accuracy,

But beyond science, even intuition attests

To what the book confirms and all of nature suggests.

That there is likely a force behind

That must possess some kind of mind to design the

search,

With all complex life intertwined.



But how could we travel through time, to unravel the

lines,

And discover the nature of the divine?



Like is he just and kind, compassionate, old, bearded,

and vengeful?

Indifferent? Omnipotent? And if so,

He must be some kind of sick old man,

‘cause the world as we know it is far from blissful.

Now all this goes to say, that most today,

Believe in some kind of God, even hope and pray.

But struggle with religion and faith don’t dismay.

We’re not destined to decease before we find…



The answer to all the question marks, a spot we began

to understand.

See, all the questions inside man are like hands

On the internal compass that guides,

As we search for what could make our hearts satisfied.

First we look outside, blind leading blind in

succession for success,

But no one ever conquers the questions,

It’s the quest which only serves to further evidence,

The irrelevance,

Of human skill and intelligence.

Then we look inside, and find with introspection,

There’s no bearing to define the direction; towards

truth,

To navigate the course,

‘Cause not inside or outside, the questions point to a

source.

Like is there more to life than sleep, struggle, and

strife?

Just eat, hustle, and fight,

And maybe juggle a wife, kids, and a job.

Why are we here? Is there a God?

If there were no answers, would it not be odd?

Our lives would be nothing but a constant search

For something we can’t describe

But swear we must have lost at birth.

‘Cause on the search we never feel quite home,

Even in large crowds we can often feel alone,

In our own skin trapped like slaves

To behave in ways

That betray our own will, it’s strange

The inconsistencies and mystery

How we often lament that we’re not who we wish to be.

Well, for those in this position,

First off you’re not alone,

Secondly, in this condition something interesting is

shown; the conscience.

But why would it impose such laws that expose such

flaws?

There seems no just cause.

But since our conscience is a part of our person,

The mistake that many make is to ignore it in our

searching; for happiness,

Which leaves many incomplete.

But this is still just the first step to finding peace,

‘Cause it’s not blind devotion to a code of laws,

But a real relationship with the one true God.

Pause.