Prophet
Far away
Across the fields
Mortal men
Regain the seal
Of those before
The winds of pain
When the Hollow Men
State their claim
And where the Word
Became flesh
Was where the world
Became cleansed
And in the streets
The children ran
When heresy
Would claim the hand
The Prophet of man
And on their feet
The Lame arose
And by his Grace
The lost came home
Yet through a frame
Of idolatry
We choose to ignore
We choose not to see
The Prophet of man
The Prophet of man
And in the darkness of a chosen cell I am awake but ever falling
And to listen with an honest heart I know I´d always hear the calling
Calling
And where the Word
Consumes the flesh
Is where the light
Of life is blessed
The Prophet of man
The Son of man
The Son of man
The Son of man
The Son of man
