No still, small voice, no Burning Bush, no God
No symbols of transcendence,no shared rites
How to die without a psalm or prayer
How to smile the last time in your life
No Joseph with his many coloured coat
No Moses in his basket in the reeds
No Sodom,No Gomorra, that’s a joke
As that is where our path now seems to lead
No journey through the deserts of the heart
No Faith, no aims,no others by our side
Where did you think the images would part?
No holy meal,no connections and no guide
No images of angels decorate
No steeples will point up to Heavenly dreams
God has left us to our sorry state
Oh, Europe, you’ve destroyed with wars and schemes
No sacred symbols but a heart of stone
For we are nothing more than flesh and bone
How my heart sings 