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There are no mystic jewels |
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embedded in my prose |
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No moonlit haloed cherubs |
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perched on my piano |
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No lyrics laced with pixie dust, |
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no angels sing along |
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I am just a beggar who gives alms |
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Gold and silver have I none, |
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but such I have give Thee |
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Borrowed words from the One |
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who gave the gift to me |
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The pearl that I could never buy, |
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this life, this dream, this song |
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And I am just a beggar |
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who gives alms |
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I am not the creator, |
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but a scribe with a pen |
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I'm recreating visions through a |
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cracked and broken lens |
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Only One has ever seen |
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the home for which we long |
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And I am just a beggar |
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who gives alms |
