ŞARKI SÖZÜ
Lord if i'm the clay
Then i've been left out in the sun
Cracked and dry, like the mud from the sty
Still clinging to the prodigal son
But I'm on my way back home
Yes I'm on my way back home
Into the hands (into the hands)
That made wine (wine) from the water
Into the hands (into the hands)
The hands of the potter
Lord if i'm the clay then
Let your living water flow
Soften up my edges, lord,
So everyone will know
