The Incredulity of Saint Thomas
It’s 4:30. I do nothing loudly
I despise the sunrise. I am weak without
You in my reach. I do nothing loudly
Even in the daytime, I do nothing, lonely

Now I can’t make things seem alright to you
If they’re not
And I can’t make things right like I used to
Because I’m not alright

Every time I enter church
It is peaceful like a hearse
I do nothing loudly
I do everything alone
I am keeping my mind
Off of things I hadn’t tried
Before the driver pulled over
And left our bodies on the side

Every day I think I look more like Jesus Christ
The one who died after his wine
Not the one who came back to life
Every day I think you look more like Jesus Christ
The one who suffered for our lives
The one with stab wounds in his side
I can only hope that in three days
We will wake up in the late night
And stick our fingers in each other’s sides
And know it’ll be alright
I can only hope that in three days
We will wake up in the late night
With our fingers in each other’s sides
We’ll know it’ll be alright