A handful of dust

A worthless piece of clay

And You breathed the breath of heaven.


Then there was a soul.

The heart, the hands, the voice

That could sing of Your perfection.


Life is a symphony that only You can play.

You know I can hear it through the madness every day.


Chorus


Virtuoso, Virtuoso.

This heart is Your instrument

This life is Your song.

Virtuoso.


There isn't a note

Of mediocrity

In all Your creation.


And all of the beauty

We create with human hands

Is only imitation.


Thunder crashes, waves crescendo on the sand.

The wind that's whispering can only be Your hand.


Chorus


A timeless melody of beauty and emotion

Perfect harmony inspiring true devotion

No one else can play its chords

So graceful yet so strong.

You made the instrument and wrote the song.

Virtuoso.


Chorus