Who asked you to come here
Who thought it'd be fun
In this land of practical misery
Where Nicholas drowned
And Lucy went blind
And Rita's lucky just to sell her tears

Whose idea was it
To give you new life
In Theresa's garden
Where flowers sprout rotten

Then pick you
And let you drift
In Christopher's moody winds

Peter would lend you a home
But he dropped his keys somewhere
Then went to get a drink with Jude

Did they mean to make you cry
Or wanted to see the world burn?

Yet there are those sinners among us
Who question it all
And think just maybe
They knew what they were doing
When Lazarus died for good

It could be
That it was all on purpose
That you were on purpose
Necessary even
Our very own
Patron Saint of Second Chances