Oh, some say
that the soul of man
is but made of ashes and bones.
That the feelings of the heart and soul
are of little worth
and must be taken into little account
that your daily bread
and the shelter over your head
is only of account.
Oh, all the world is but such a dead
mechanical thing
when no vision stirs the heart
and no music fills the soul.
Then only rancor and strife would fill the world.
Oh, rage! Rage against those
whose words are only ashes
and the soul of man
is crucified upon a cross
for the world is more then meat and bread
and the love of the heart
is the life of the soul.
Oh, how the devil
and reside within your daily bread
while the soul of man
and the son of man
hangs crucified upon a cross
and the heart sets encased in stone.
Oh, rage! Rang against those
whose god of the coin of the realm
and the world lies in eternal winter
while the arrogant voice
is lifted up and reigns supreme.
Oh, come Gabriel and blow your horn
your long expected call
and this world of ice and snow
be melted into a deep blue sea
by the warm sacred heart
of an all consuming love.