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at the opera they set you up
shot you dead didn't see it coming
naive as water gauche as gold
the time of tyrant respirators
despots of old
a little s and another s s You catch my drift
so in this tune it's dyin' an living each last breath
yr tomb is inert & you call out J in place of
M
cause B wasn't there neither was W so its the long primal dirge
back to a forest primeval with the wicked son's tongue
nothing like the first love undone
nothing after nothing in the sun
she said I am the prophet you are the prophecy
go on go ahead call on everyone
in the boat y an orphan it wont' lift the ladder
Nor change the steps
yr breath consigned to whats rich and poor
driving your truck to Jerusalem
it's what you whispered the last night
you heard it call heard it in the hall
taking a bus to Bethlehem
riding
a truck to Jerusalem
you are the prophecy I am the prophet
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