the scene (land, hand)

The Scene (Land, Hand)

I am tired.
we cannot say it's just a profession,
rather it's a overflowing confession of life,
strife,
it keeps the children going through an overgrown reality.

this afternoon at the river i was baptized,
upon the hill he was crucified,
the crowd was mystified...

it was the celebration of celebrations,
a coming on age if you will allow me that.

but if you will deny me that,
then i'll will travel up the road and back
till we reach the promise land
holding the head of moses in my hand,
his holy words dripping out of his mouth
colored like a dark red wine,

jesus walked alone in the desert
to prove himself divine.
40 days later he hit the sidewalk on the other side,
screaming the message "god will provide"
this was before his death of course.

but what we will find,
when he falls and the head grows heavy
that the masses must march at a steady pace,
or i, my dear, will win this race.
no one learned it,
only one made the return,
and it was me.

so man i tried to lead your son through the desert
to the promise land.
yet he was weak and i was tired,
he was taken,
i was rewired,
and now i can say i have forgetten it all!
so i will rest,
the head gone from my hands,
and the prospect

is grand.