If the words placed on the screen
By a young lesbian girl who dares to dream
If the photos on your page are the creativity born of rage
By the young gay man defiled at thirteen who’s seldom seen
At the door of the temple.
Would all heaven fall down and shake the very ground
If the transvestite down town sporting a crown found love,
real love that melted her heart
Of not running from danger
If the sermon is preached
By a man who’s secrets are held
To protect the image he longs for the world to believe
So he doesn’t get booted, shot or shooted
Like a bolt from the blue into oblivion.
And sinking from the public eye,
His book sales plummeting
Because pride always meant that
Cause there just wasn’t time
And the kid playing music has questions in his mind
where he worries all the time
Playing here for the crowd
He’d rather be famous in the “real” world.
Whats the difference if the secrets kept aren’t sexual but ambitional?
Would love, love less or more?
Because the god he worships is only fame
And after all isn’t that the game
Isn’t the clue in the title
A little bit of fame cant hurt can it?
Ask Jimmy or Janice or Kurt or Elvis
They’ll all tell you fame is harmless
That His love is so encompassing that
He doesn’t need us to guard the bastions of truth
Is His love so fragile that He requires us to proclaim
As if He ever needed proof?
What if the joy of heaven engulfed our hearts so completely
That we found a rest so sublime that time
Itself seemed to stand still?
If heaven came to earth and for a moment all strivings ceased?
Where belief was not a prerequisite
Because love was in the kitchen making tea
Saying sit for a while child
That we turn on each other
Frances4956 says:
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Roger3049 says:
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McKenzie840 says:
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