They say we won,
But we lost so much.
That all relief,
Was bitter-sweet.
It’s hard to feel,
You knew the enemy.
It’s hard to feel,
You live for anything.

My mother said,
Thank god you’re home.
But I never made it back at all.
And when you drag,
Bodies through the mud,
It’s hard for God,
To bless you with his love.

Does he know you at all?
And does this ‘God’ of yours,
Even know you at all?

To kill a man,
Is as natural as,
Falling in love;
But fashionable.
It’s hard to feel,
That I belong at home.
It’s hard to feel
Anything at all.

Does he know you at all?
And does this ‘God’ of yours,
Even know you at all?

Carrying faith,
Out of the trench.
Over my shoulder.
Over and over.
Over the [bad word] walls,
Of my innocence.
And my saviour.

Does he know you at all?
And does this ‘God’ of yours,
Even know you at all?