I have an apology to make 
I'm afraid I've made a big mistake 
I turned my face away from you, Lord 

I was too blind to see the light 
I was too weak to feel Your might 
I closed my eyes; I couldn't see the [bad word]  Lord 

But then like Saul on the Damascus road, 
You sent a messenger to me, and so 
Now I've have had the [bad word] revealed to me 
Please forgive me all those things I said 
I'll no longer betray you, Lord 
I will pray to you instead 

And I will say thank you, thank you 
Thank you, God 
Thank you, thank you 
Thank you, God... 

Thank you, God, for fixing the cataracts of Sam's mum 
I had no idea, but it's suddenly so clear now 
I feel such a cynic, how could I have been so dumb? 
Thank you for displaying how praying works: 
particular prayer in a particular church 
Thank you Sam for the chance to acknowledge this 
Omnipotent ophthalmologist 

Thank you, God, for fixing the cataracts of Sam's mum 
I didn't realize that it was so simple 
But you've shown a great example of just how it can be done 
You only need to pray in a particular spot 
To a particular version of a particular god, 
And if you pull that off without a hitch, 
He will fix one eye of one middle-class white [bad word] 

I know in the past my outlook has been limited 
I couldn't see examples of where life had been definitive 
But I can admit it when the evidence is clear, 
As clear as Sam's mum's new cornea 
(And that's extremely clear! ) 

Thank you, God, for fixing the cataracts of Sam's mum 
I have to admit that in the past I have been skeptical 
But Sam described this miracle and I am [bad word]  
How [bad word] that the sighting of a sight-based intervention 
Should open my eyes to this exciting new dimension 
It's like someone put an eye chart up in front of me 
And the top five letters say: I C, O 

Thank you, Sam, for showing how my point of view has been so flawed 
I assumed there was no God at all but now I see that's cynical 
It's simply that his interests aren't particularly broad 
He's largely undiverted by the starving masses, 
Or the inequality between the various classes 
He gives you strictly limited passes, 
Redeemable for surgery or two-for-one glasses 

I feel so shocking for historically mocking 
Your interests are clearly confined to the ocular 
I bet given the chance, you'd eschew the divine 
And start a little business selling contacts online 
 [bad word] me Sam, what are the odds 
That of history's endless parade of gods 
That the God you just happened to be taught to believe in 
Is the actual one and he digs on healing, 
But not the AIDS-ridden African nations 
Nor the victims of the plague, nor the flood-addled Asians, 
But healthy, privately-insured Australians  [bad word] and curable corneal degeneration 

This story of Sam's has but a single explanation: 
surgical God who digs on magic operations 
No, it couldn't be mistaken attribution of causation 
Born of a coincidental temporal correlation 
Exacerbated by a general lack of education 
Vis-a-vis physics in Sam's parish congregation 
And it couldn't be that all these pious people are liars 
It couldn't be an artefact of confirmation bias 
product of groupthink, 
mass delusion, 
An Emperor's New Clothes-style fear of exclusion 

No, it's more likely to be an all-powerful magician 
Than the misdiagnosis of the initial condition, 
Or one of many cases of spontaneous remission, 
Or a record-keeping glitch by the local physician 

No, the only explanation for Sam's mum's seeing: 
They prayed to an all-knowing superbeing, 
To the omnipresent master of the universe, 
And he quite liked the sound of their muttered verse. 

So for a bit of a change from his usual stunt