In His Hands Do We Lie . . .

In His Hands Do We Lie,

With His Will, We Move Or Fly.

A Play So Simple, Yet So Complex,

While We Think We Choose, But It Is Him Who Decides, No Matter How It May Be Perplex . .

While We Think We Dream, It Is Him Who Determines Our Dull And Gleam..

Vibrant And Lively, As Much It May Seem, Dancing Like Free Spirit, But Only In Our Belief . .

We Are All In His Circus, And Only He Does Master,

To His Tunes And Beats Do We Cry Or Indulge In Laughter . .

The Universe Sets The Rhythm, He Decides,

And Like A Record We Play In Loop, Like The My Fair Lady, With A Smile So Wry . .

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