Hail this joyful day's return
 Into its great shadowed vault I go
 Hail the Pentecostal morn
 The reading is from Luke 24
 Where Christ returns to his loved ones
 I look at the stone apostles
 Think that it's alright for some
 And I wish that I was made of stone
 So that I would not have to see
 A beauty impossible to define
 A beauty impossible to believe
 A beauty impossible to endure
 The blood imparted in little sips
 The smell of you still on my hands
 As I bring the cup up to my lips
 No God up in the sky
 No devil beneath the sea
 Could do the job that you did, baby
 Of bringing me to my knees
 Outside I sit on the stone steps
 With nothing much to do
 Forlorn and exhausted, baby
 By the absence of you