The King is Alive

In the beginning, I was formless and void
And darkness hovered over the surface of my heart
The world was as gray as a Michigan winter
And a nightshade stretched out across the sky
And I wore January like a heavy cloak upon my shoulder
And never felt the warmth of the sun

And spring was a laughable fable spun by old crones
And little girls in the gutter
And the sunlight a communal delusion
To stop beggars from walking into the sea
So I hardened my heart and swore to make my own way with my moxie
And by the sweat of my brow

There is a fire in my bones
I've felt it flicker
And I just can't let it go
My heart is anchored in hope

So each morning I rose
And I toiled until my hands were cracked and bleeding
And each evening I ate with the outcasts and the sinners
By the light of a flickering hearth
And I listened to their tales of a long-deceased ruler
And an apocryphal sun

And publicly I scoffed at their preposterous fantasies
And the faith they so brazenly brandished
But in my heart of hearts
I held fast to the notion of some equivocal, ambiguous hope
And at the dawning of each new day
I stood at the eastern gate and stared solemnly into the black

There is a fire in my bones
I've felt it flicker
And I just can't let it go

There is a fire in my bones
I've felt it flicker
And I just can't let it go
My heart is anchored in hope

As I kept my faithful vigil
I began to feel the chains shake loose from around my calloused heart
And as the last link fell away
I saw the sky split from top to bottom
Like a curtain torn in two
And there was the light
There was that King of old
And there was the sun

And I fell to my knees
With Hosanna on my lips and Hallelujah in my heart
And I knew that you'd been there all along
Through the gray and the black
For the darkness is not dark to you

The King is alive
The King is alive
Long live the King