These are the images I arrange to fill in my report on you,
Holiness, mystery, disturbing and strange,
Obscuring the point of my view,
Everyone seems to know just what you are but I never seem to break through,
Forgive me please if I can't see that far,
Life's dulling the point of my view.

Half-light, coming through the dark glass darkly,
Half-light, where faith and doubt remain,
Half-light, tattoo scars where shadows mark me,
Half-light, I don't expect you to explain.

This is the passage I undertake over the epoch and phase,
The terror and sweetness of history and fate,
Last word on the very last page,
Everyone seems to think they've got it made,
That you're on a rack by the door,
It's true; I don't know much except I am saved from falling through cracks in the floor.

Half-light, coming through the dark glass darkly,
Half-light, where faith and doubt remain,
Half-light, tattoo scars where shadows mark me,
Half-light, I don't expect you to explain.

Tomorrow I'm planning to write the great book, in which I will capture our time,
Set forth the fury, the sound and the look if I could just make up my mind,
Everyone seems to think you're on their side but I don't think you're that small,
How could they see it when reason has died?
We haven't a clue to it all.

Half-light, coming through the dark glass darkly,
Half-light, where faith and doubt remain,
Half-light, tattoo scars where shadows mark me,
Half-light, I don't expect you to explain,
Half-light, coming through the dark glass darkly,
Half-light, where faith and doubt remain,
Half-light, tattoo scars where shadows mark me,
Half-light, I don't expect you to explain.