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NARRATOR: |
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Behold the boy - |
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The stranger, the working man's son |
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With skin like white lightning |
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And eyes like two shots from a gun |
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They'll teach him to pray and work everyday |
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He'll learn how to sweat in the sun |
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But God has a place - |
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A place for him in |
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His plan He won't be like his old man |
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He won't be made to crawl |
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His folks named him |
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John But everyone else called him |
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Snow With flesh bright as |
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Sunday And a face full of something unknown |
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Shunned as he grew, he finally withdrew |
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Asleep in a world all his own |
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Then he awoke like a child in the |
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Promised Land |
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With barely the strength to stand |
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And tears in his eyes |
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He's a stranger in a strange land from a world far away |
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Like a savior in the wasteland with a high price to pay |
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He's a stranger in a strange land |
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And he can't find his way home |
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At seventeen years old he awoke from his world of gray (He awoke to a time gone away) |
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With a gift ever-reaching and a calling he had to obey (They watched as he left home one day) |
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They all looked on |
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While the prodigal son |
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Left the home of his father that day |
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Hit New York |
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City with just the shirt on his back |
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With a tape deck and battery pack |
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And no turning back... |
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He's a stranger in a strange land from a world far away |
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Like a savior in the wasteland with a high price to pay |
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He's a stranger in a strange land |
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Stranger in a strange land |
