Jesus Sand

If there was more for me to say

It'd be said with a golden tongue

Out there, out there

I've been out there

Where the golden rule is won.

 

I come in repose

For I am a man,

A man with a hand of iron.

He sits atop the Jesus-sand:

The sand above a lion.

 

His face is dirt, his mind a seed

And to blossom will be rebirth

Out from the dirt, a hint of weeds

His body becomes the earth.

 

If I were him

Each strand of hair

Would be a string of time

I'd know, I'd know

Just how to

Construct every fading line.

 

It's very simple,

I have told the ones who wish were me,

Just let your feet become the rocks

On the bottom of the sea.