Lyrics Tim Minchin

Tim Minchin

Thank You God

I have an apology to make

I'm afraid I've made a big mistake

I turned my face away from you, Lord

I was too blind to see the light

I was too weak to feel Your might

I closed my eyes; I couldn't see the truth, Lord

But then like Saul on the Damascus road,

You sent a messenger to me, and so

Now I've have had the truth revealed to me

Please forgive me all those things I said

I'll no longer betray you, Lord

I will pray to you instead

And I will say thank you, thank you

Thank you, God

Thank you, thank you

Thank you, God...

Thank you, God, for fixing the cataracts of Sam's mum

I had no idea, but it's suddenly so clear now

I feel such a cynic, how could I have been so dumb?

Thank you for displaying how praying works:

A particular prayer in a particular church

Thank you Sam for the chance to acknowledge this

Omnipotent ophthalmologist

Thank you, God, for fixing the cataracts of Sam's mum

I didn't realize that it was so simple

But you've shown a great example of just how it can be done

You only need to pray in a particular spot

To a particular version of a particular god,

And if you pull that off without a hitch,

He will fix one eye of one middle-class white bitch

I know in the past my outlook has been limited

I couldn't see examples of where life had been definitive

But I can admit it when the evidence is clear,

As clear as Sam's mum's new cornea

(And that's extremely clear! )

Thank you, God, for fixing the cataracts of Sam's mum

I have to admit that in the past I have been skeptical

But Sam described this miracle and I am overcome!

How fitting that the sighting of a sight-based intervention

Should open my eyes to this exciting new dimension

It's like someone put an eye chart up in front of me

And the top five letters say: I C, G O D

Thank you, Sam, for showing how my point of view has been so flawed

I assumed there was no God at all but now I see that's cynical

It's simply that his interests aren't particularly broad

He's largely undiverted by the starving masses,

Or the inequality between the various classes

He gives out strictly limited passes,

Redeemable for surgery or two-for-one glasses

I feel so shocking for historically mocking

Your interests are clearly confined to the ocular

I bet given the chance, you'd eschew the divine

And start a little business selling contacts online

Fuck me Sam, what are the odds

That of history's endless parade of gods

That the God you just happened to be taught to believe in

Is the actual one and he digs on healing,

But not the AIDS-ridden African nations

Nor the victims of the plague, nor the flood-addled Asians,

But healthy, privately-insured Australians

With common and curable corneal degeneration

This story of Sam's has but a single explanation:

A surgical God who digs on magic operations

No, it couldn't be mistaken attribution of causation

Born of a coincidental temporal correlation

Exacerbated by a general lack of education

Vis-a-vis physics in Sam's parish congregation

And it couldn't be that all these pious people are liars

It couldn't be an artefact of confirmation bias

A product of groupthink,

A mass delusion,

An Emperor's New Clothes-style fear of exclusion

No, it's more likely to be an all-powerful magician

Than the misdiagnosis of the initial condition,

Or one of many cases of spontaneous remission,

Or a record-keeping glitch by the local physician

No, the only explanation for Sam's mum's seeing:

They prayed to an all-knowing superbeing,

To the omnipresent master of the universe,

And he quite liked the sound of their muttered verse.

So for a bit of a change from his usual stunt

Of being a sexist, racist, murderous cunt

He popped down to Dandenong and just like that

Used his powers to heal the cataracts of Sam's mum

Of Sam's mum

Thank you God for fixing the cataracts of Sam's mum!

I didn't realize that it was such a simple thing

I feel such a dingaling, what ignorant scum!

Now I understand how prayer can work:

A particular prayer in a particular church

In a particular style with a particular stuff

And for particular problems that aren't particularly tough,

And for particular people, preferably white

And for particular senses, preferably sight

A particular prayer in a particular spot

To a particular version of a particular god

And if you get that right, he just might

Take a break from giving babies malaria

And pop down to your local area

To fix the cataracts of your mum!