A sole spotlight, a moonbeam bright,
finds the boy in the dirt on a cold black night,
and the arctic winds howl,
stifling the voices of those who doubt him.

Beacon of fire in the cold night sky,
her moonbeams raise the Imperfect Son,
from the ashes of a life that ended twice,
a life from which the joker would run.

From the molten heart of the life he despised,
naysayers cackle and close their eyes,
for the moonbeams burn those who doubt,
the love that raises him from the Earth.