St. Francis walking on the water
All his lambs have gone to slaughter
All the creatures who receive his grace
you can see them all
in his haggard face
St Francis begging at your doorway
you want to let him in but what will the neighbors say
you know you can't go on but you can't give up
And he answers you
with his begging cup
St Francis sitting at your table
a cup of tea among the faithful
behind a wall that's made of little lies
much to your surprise
you start to cry
by these wounds you will be whole again
by these signs you will know
you'll feel a stirring in your soul again
'til sweet amnesia takes a hold
Saint Francis sleeping in the meadow
His halo is a raven's shadow
He's been sleeping for 800 years
In a potter's field
Full of sparrow's tears
And while we sleep and dream of heaven's gates
down here on earth
the old man waits