Words get written
Words get twisted
Old meanings move in the drift of time
Lift the flickering torches
See gentle shadows change
The features of the faces
Cut in unmoving stone
Bad mouth on a prayer day
Hope no one's listening
Roots down in the wet clay
Branches glistening
True disciples carrying that message
To color just a little
With their personal touch
Home-spun fancy weavers
And naked half-believers
Crusades and creeds descend like
Fiery flakes of snow
Bad mouth on a prayer day
Hope no one's listening
Roots down in the wet clay
Branches glistening
Words get twisted
Old meanings move in the drift of time
Lift the flickering torches
See gentle shadows change
The features of the faces
Cut in unmoving stone
Bad mouth on a prayer day
Hope no one's listening
Roots down in the wet clay
Branches glistening
True disciples carrying that message
To color just a little
With their personal touch
Home-spun fancy weavers
And naked half-believers
Crusades and creeds descend like
Fiery flakes of snow
Bad mouth on a prayer day
Hope no one's listening
Roots down in the wet clay
Branches glistening
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