How Else Can It Be

The cup that holds your wine

Was burned in the potter's oven

And the lute that soothes your spirit

Is wood that was hollowed with knives

And the selfsame well from which laughter rises

Was oftentimes filled with your tears

How else can it be?

Some of you say joy is greater than sorrow

Others say sorrow is greater than joy

I say to you they are inseparable

Together they come

Together they come

How else can it be?

How else can it be?