Well, he came walking out of the desert,
With a humble purpose burning in his eye,
A man on a mission, a small town boy
Ready to live and die.
Well, he walked through the streets, looking for a while,
Rubbing shoulders with the many and the few,
Folks like us who needed something real,
Something better, something true.
A different kind of guy, nothing fake,
Nothing false, no waffle, no bull,
With a million true tales in the fist of his hand
And a life primed beyond full.
He shunned the fame, exposed the lies,
And shot down the powers-that-be,
Walked over water and on through storms
For you and yes, for me.
A man on fire, too alive, too true,
Too kind, too pure for this place.
So they knocked him down, beat him to a pulp,
And spat right in his face.
And so it was the sound of three nails
Went ringing through the land.
Like the call of a bell, for the broken and the bruised,
For the crushed and for the damned.
And the ringing bell was the sound played out
Against the crimson backdrop of dawn.
And the life of the world got a fresh big bang,
As it got rejigged, reborn.
The planet did a quantum shift,
A sweet subtle seismic leap,
As the one with the skill to craft a universe,
Stirred from his mortal sleep.
He shook off the shackles of death
As his heart began beating once more,
And with his new dawn breath, said, ‘Let there be life.’
As he opened death’s front door.
And the one who knows the desert and grave,
Knows hatred, heartache and pain,
Keeps walking this world, on his eternal search,
For those longing to start again…