The hollow I am, habit, cowl of the sky, hand
Of the holy, mouth of the most high witnessed all
The bloodshed of the children He should love. A bullet
To the infidel set to flight, bore the dove. I
Don’t know what it was that inside me died, at the
Sermon in the woods, they were preaching in the dirt
It was faith in silence made the good man convert.

Bore the holy cross, they would bear the holy sword
Those defamers of His name, smoking sacred an
Offer to Adonai, the poor lamb they had lamed.
Christ wept, held his face littered by the holy man
‘Till he disappeared from vision became just an
Ordinary man, to walk in the valley of death.
I took from my shoulders the weight of debts past on.

Centeries’ share of ghosts of the ****** lived and died
Like this iconoclast and I blazed on that path,
Now penitent for everyman for all the love
That he may bring is surely shame to everything,
And to all by it abide. I shall revere no
Holy man nor the love he cast aside nor He
Who allowed the righteous to bear His name in vain.