Lyrics

Beneath the scorched and barren skies of Texas,

Where warriors once stood with fire in their eyes,

A storm rose, cruel as the devil's own laughter,

Snatching children, tearing through lives.
And I screamed to the heavens, fists clenched, trembling,

"God, where are You as the floodwaters climb?

Where’s the mercy, the justice, the Savior You promised?

Where were You when we begged for a sign?"
(Chorus)

Tell me, oh Lord, how does mystery heal?

When the innocent suffer, and hope can’t feel real?

Was it Your storm, or the devil's cruel game?

When will this silence meet fire and flame?
(Verse 2)

The cries of the lost, they still haunt the rivers.

Their laughter now echoes as guilt in my veins,

I couldn't save them—I stood like a shadow,

Held captive by wrath, held captive by pain.
And those preachers, their sermons are lies wrapped in scripture,

"Have faith," they preach, as the waters still rise.

But faith doesn’t shield us from darkness unyielding,

It doesn’t bring back what we've lost to the skies.
(Chorus)

Tell me, oh Lord, how does mystery heal?

When the innocent suffer, and the anguish feels real?

Where was the Savior who calms brutal seas?

We cried out Your name, yet You answered with grief.
(Bridge)

Texas bled that day—her heart torn asunder,

Her children dragged under by meaningless waves.

And we carve their names into the fabric of freedom,

To honor their light and the lives He betrayed.
And yet the brave rise, fueled by the sorrow,

The hardened warriors, their strength forged in fire.

They bear the weight of a world lost in chaos,

While the heavens stay silent to our desperate desire.
(Chorus)

Tell me, oh Lord, how does mystery heal?

Shouldn’t justice serve more than theological zeal?

When the blood-streaked earth cries for love, not rage,

Where's the redemption beyond this page?
(Outro)

So, I call to the winds, to the rain, to the heavens,

If You hear me up there, don't just hide away.

The children deserve more than whispers and riddles,

Send Your thunder—bring justice today.
We’ll rise, Texas strong, through the hell and destruction,

But scars will remember Your absence at play.