I ask the creator above me, how much can this world take? Since the first full turn around, there's just never been a break. I ask the creator above me, if you're real, then why do we remain here? Why do so many suffer in silence, your intervention is needed here.

I ask the creator above us, why can't the world rest for once? Is it your plan to keep us down, to let us all live in fear? I ask the creator above us, is there any way for relief? Other than the final resting place, is there ever a moment to be free?

I ask my creator above me, just how much more I can take? I'm gaining a feeling of dread each day, it's a matter of time till I break. I ask my creator above me, why have I ended up this way? Can I live to see another day, or will it all be over soon?

They ask the creator above them, if they could have just a moment of peace. For all their lives, they've been hurt till they cry, they beg for some release. They ask the creator above them, is it really only belief, is that all it takes? Because even with all their faith, you've never let up on them.

They ask their maker in the clouds, why do you only look down? Why do you never help, a simple prayer seems to leave no answers. They ask their maker who sits so high, that they don't mean to offend, but they just have to ask why? Why is it you let them live in despair, depression sets thick in the air. 

We all now ask the creator of the world, why allow us to be this way? Life keeps us down at every turn, no solution can be seen near. We all now ask the creator of the world, if you're good, why leave the earth in ruins this way. We're never meant to ask questions, but now more than ever we need you. We sit asking for a miracle, knowing none is set to come. Yet we still must keep our morale, in fear of a threat of burning in hell.