We come from a long line of wanderers. Clap your hands, ring that bell, Jesus is alive and well. Raise your voice, make a sound, bring that kingdom to the ground. We came here with strange beliefs. Sent from a future peace to rebuild the ancient roads. We are the next souls. We come from a long line of wanderers. Come, everybody join the song. Bom, badda-budda-bom bom bom! Born in the past, but of the future. Builders and poets, perfected in weakness, To carry a lamp and prepare the way. We are setting up camp here. Christ has claimed me. I am his land: here, now, his kingdom.

Oh, her bell tower rang through the grey early morn sang static and swindle from its crackling horn sang a song, “sing a long” but they’d heard it all before and they gave up the ghost when the paper was torn then her lover woke, shocked to find all his locks shorn and he knew no miracles could here be performed there were no round tones, dying and being reborn what had happened overnight to the vow she had sworn? And his bride, how she cried, Oh my darling how could I even be sure you were alive? And oh, the cost, the cost! And I know you said there may be some pain, oh but baby, baby, though the song you sang me saved me, the chorus line I lost... (it goes) the bones you have crushed will rejoice, will rejoice and the bones you have crushed will rejoice Bound in the basement, the lover starts to laugh. Betrayal makes a play, but it never knows the half. Meanwhile the child with her eyes on the angel in the aisles feels the ringing start to rise and even I feel something coming back to life... See, the jester’s got this dance and oh man I like his style! I’m comin’ across the aisle with my ol' broke leg and my crooked smile: We go down, down, turn around; pick it up and put it down. Ringing out that song and we don’t understand a word: we’re just enchanted by the sound The bones you have crushed will rejoice, will rejoice The bones you have crushed will rejoice

Fire when ready, cast the first stone. Tech dead-eye, don't you know? These targets are precious to me. Each one of these on a spiritual journey, Much too important to be cut short over borders. Someone hear me. Lines on maps will fade. Nations will change what names they use for bits of space. Here and gone. But you and I, who we are goes on. And you can't try to get the bible to let you make an idol of survival. The truth refuses you. This is how it is with war: He who would make safety by killing must kill all. The bullets are so fast, they're god-like. But you're no full racked God, you're a spike. So your fight is just blasphemy. Accomplice to your enemy, Apostate to humanity, An offense to me, and a failure to my offspring. My "king"! Presiding with bloody teeth Over a fragile peace Piled high atop a chaos of killing. We do not like this way of building. I and mine are walking down. We believe that we can build peace. Peace in the valley tonight, Peace in the valley tonight. This is how it is with war: He who would make safety by killing must kill all.

Soldier, arise. Wipe the mud and the blood off your clothes. Close up your eyes, for the things no one ever will know. No one ever will know, no one can tell how strange it felt To be more and less than human: the things that you were doing, Making peace and making ruin. It’s hell. Who’ll have the courage to say this isn’t worth it? Soldier, arise. Don’t go to war again. You know the price. This will happen again and again. How much time can we buy? How much is worth the price? Who’ll have the courage to say this isn’t worth it? We weren’t given life just to prolong it on this earth. It goes on.

This is the song going forth for the day of the Lord, and we're happy to report there's a jester in the court! We've all been wiggling on this hook for so long it starts to feel like home, but no, it's not, it's something you got to get free of. My heart is longing for a change. This is the day that we prayed for, the one we waited for, tried to clear the way for, got left and hated for! We can't go back to what we were before we heard the softly spoken word. (And we weren't even faithful! Aw, it's disgraceful, but what can you do when love chooses you?) My heart is longing for a change. We can dance and sing through the rhetoric of kings. It is in illusion; they have lost their sting. Oh, all creation sings a song, a silly song with wings, stolen from the mouths of stones till the jester's scaffold becomes a throne. This is the song going forth for the day of the Lord, and we're happy to report there's a jester in the court. [Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne, But the scaffold sways the future And behind the dim unknown Standeth God within the shadows, Keeping watch, keeping watch above His own - James Russell Lowell]

Broken Heart I have a broken heart. Nothing here can fill me up. No amount of praise, no rich days, nothing could ever be enough. You can hear the wind blow through. I have a broken heart. Nothing here can fill me up. I keep having the same dream. I seem to think there's something to wake up from. And maybe something to wake up to. I think maybe sometime after I was a baby... I caught a glimpse of a mystery from ancient days. Saw something amazing wrapped inside of something small and something plain. Something strange. Which maybe was always you. But it often seems so unclear to me - hard to believe that anything means anything. And it's killing me, and I could let it be, except it's clear to me when you come to me in my dreams, dreams of what could be. I started thinking about things. Started thinking about the heart: you know, that thing that we mean when we don't mean that fist-sized thing, with it's pulsing and pulsing, which sometimes suddenly stops, and in other instances slowly fades. I started thinking about how it gets harder and harder - about oil and water, sons and fathers; These things! Machines and martyrs, people's dreams and sudden slaughter, and I started thinking about this guy who gave me a hundred dollars, just 'cause he believed in something going on inside of me. Then that heart got urgent, started saying crazy things, like, "Give up on the American dream. Get a better dream. Dream like me. Dream new ways of building. Dream something better than just existing. Dream the redemption of all things living. Do it." And I started thinking about how it's a crime that half the time, even when I sing, I refer to that eternal speaking voice like it's some "thing" when it's some ONE, someone you can know and who can love. But it's just 'cause you're so broad-- so far beyond anything I ever thought... Oh suspicion: that we persons should beyond us oh deduce none. Oh suspicion. If not before, then today I want you all to hear me say that I am lifting up The Heart, the part that everybody throws away. There is more than glimmer and decay. I know I can't explain. But if you're hearing me, then long for a change. Something about everything is personal. Something inside me knows. It's not some add-on discussion to that of the physical facts of the universe, no. Who permeates What, and connected thus, to rip you out is just to gut myself: It's to break my own heart. My heart, my heart, my heart was always Yours.

We will miss them, who did not have the heart to try, Who ran the camels through the needle but were still unsatisfied, Whose feet we gathered round, Whom we held in high regard, Who grew smaller in the distance. Oh, it was so hard. But we rejoice in the hope of a glory yet unknown. In our hearts we hear the groan of a new world waiting to be born In our future there's a story being told, And we're watching it unfold like a plan, heart to heart and hand in hand. I have seen my best beliefs get wrecked On the rocks of some very hard words. And there I was: crestfallen in the rain. So much for my parade. My flag won't wave anymore. I could not explain. Hung my head in shame. So much for my parade. Was the lie exposed? Or was the truth betrayed? And who gets to say? Right now everything seems so bad, and everyone's yelling and telling you that this is how it is, like, kid, now you better buckle down, like somehow you're supposed to be happy about it. But we rejoice in the hope of a glory yet unknown. In our hearts we hear the groan of a new world waiting to be born In our future there's a story being told, And we're watching it unfold like a plan, heart to heart and hand in hand. We will miss them, who did not have the heart to try. If you've been giving up, come back. The Hope is open wide.