It's well past midnight
And I'm awake with questions that won't
Wait for daylight
Separating fact from my imaginary fiction
On this shelf of my conviction
I need to find a place
Where You and [bad word] face to face

Thomas needed
Proof that You had really risen
Undefeated
When he placed his fingers
Where the nails once broke Your skin
Did his faith finally begin?
I've lied if I've denied [bad word] ground I've shared with him

And I, I really want to know You
I want to make each day
different way that I can show You how
I really want to love You
Be patient with my doubt
I'm just tryin' to figure out Your will
And I really want to know You still

Nicodemus
Could not understand how You could [bad word] free us
He [bad word] with the image
Of a grown man born again
We might have been good friends
Cuz sometimes I still question, too
How easily [bad word] to You

No more campin' on the porch of indecision
No more sleepin' under stars of apathy
And it might be easier to dream
But dreamin's not for me