What more can these here digits do?
What more can these here digits do?
These frail imprints of man.
The mind they brand as limitless,
Our thoughts as vast as sand.
They say they have the power,
To achieve their final goal.
They live their lives successfully,
Their pleasures in a hole.
They say the final effort is
To "follow your own heart,"
And with their art,
They raise their dart,
And cast it high above their head.
Thus they start and thus they part,
Found pierced on their bed.
What more can these here digits do?
These fine created specimens,
The products not of greater men,
But One who rules the lion's den.
The One who raised the great deep sea,
The One who made the Devil flee,
He who made the earth and stars,
He who casts our sins afar.
With All we can do anything,
With Him we can have everything.
It's not our might that gives us strength,
But God alone, when we are bent.
Bow, behold, His kingdom's coming
Shout, exalt, His name.
Dance, rejoice, man's pride is dying,
All their lives, lived in vain.
I be not the captain,
Of this rusty, torn down ship.
I am not the writer,
Of my own life story,
Lack of pencil tip.
Alone, I have no power,
With man I am brought lower,
With evil I am under,
With God he speaks with thunder,
Crushes me, man and evil,
Casts them yonder.
What more can these here digits do?
10+10, 10*2.
20 digits all in all,
Short and fat, long and tall.
I am human here and now,
My flaws shout out loud,
And only one solution exists,
One perfection persists
Never shall He cease.
Haveth He a list,
Of the desperately humble.
What more can these here digits do?
Crumble.
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