The Chorus

Outstretch your hands
Receive redemption
Your name does not change
The music that plays
Silenced in haste
And a lone voice sounds
‘I am the truest self, I am the truest self
I am the truest self, I am the truest self
I am the truest self, I am the truest self
I am the truest self, I am the truest self’

You can’t get rid of me
Bowed head in slapping waves
Green glimmers through salt sting
Knowing nothing but the need not to breathe
And what have you achieved?
What does your death mean?
Is your art improved?
Will your sex be missed?
Can you answer these
Before you’re knocked back by the waves
And the pain recedes
And the ledge you cling onto narrows

We accept our loss
Cut off our hands

Immortal invisible God only wise in light
Accessible hid from our eyes
Most blessed most glorious
The ancient of days almighty victorious
You knew what you were about when you created me

No shock

In unison
We accept our loss
Cut off our hands