Saint Francis walking on the water
All his lambs have gone to slaughter
And all the creatures who receive his grace
You can see them all in his haggard face
Saint Francis begging at your doorway
You want to let him in, but what will the neighbours say
And you know you can't go on, but you can't give up
And he answers you with his begging cup
Saint Francis sitting at your table
A cup of tea among the faithful
Behind a wall that's made of little lies
Much to your surprise, you start to cry
And by these wounds you will be whole again
By these signs you will know
You'll feel a stirring in your soul again
'Til sweet amnesia takes a hold
Saint Francis sleeping in the meadow
His halo is a raven's shadow
He's been sleeping for eight hundred years
In a potter's field full of sparrow's tears
And while we sleep and dream of heaven's gates
Down here on earth the old man waits