In the beginning Man makes some kind of home Only decision Is made by a sex chromosome Situations make for a new direction Situations make for a massacre In the middle Righteous are roasted to cinders Where's the love It never appears from above Situations make for a new reflection Situations make for a brand new light When the heavens come a crashing down on us I won't pray, but what I will say Is we may have missed the bus When the ho-holy maker shakes his head I won't freeze or fall on my knees But I may go back to bed Because seriously what's the rush? Where's the love It never appears to the needy Where's the love It never appears from above Situations make for a new messiah Genetically modified by science and surgical sense