Theres a woman
down on her knees down by the roadside.
Shes thrown that little white handbag aside
And shes holding on to her child
Where the stones and bricks are piled
And the cars go rolling by despite her grief.
She looks up into the sky
thats filled with darkness
And she looks away from Mecca to the west.
She says, Every life must end
But, Lord, why did you send
The day when I must see him die myself?
The horns are blazing on those
As she brushes down his hair with a trembling hand.
Where the river runs underground
With a distant troubled sound
Shed dipped him in the waters that ward off death.
His father was a stranger
and remained one.
On the day his son was born they said hed gone.
But as the boy became a man,
However wild he ran,
She knew that he was blessed above the rest.
Down the hungry streets on
which she raised him
Guns and drugs had kept the chances slim
And the cost of living high
And heroes in short supply
But he walked a finer line than anyone else.
But they caught him unawares
beyond the precinct
And they gunned him down at once to keep the peace.
Now shes holding on to her child
Where the moon shines undefiled
And the muezzins chant to those Carmelite bells.
By the stone that keeps the
waters from the waters,
By the holy feet that trod upon that rock,
By the navel of the world,
Into hell may they be hurled
Who sent the boy into the arms of God.
Its the song that you
can hear in any nation,
Its the background noise to every front.
By the borders we defend
Show me where Golgotha ends
And the garden where the stones been rolled away.