Marketplace

The words of the prophet were simple and plain

And yet to the learned he sounded insane

He asked for repentance from all who have sinned

Not a reed simply swayed by the wind



And when the Messiah's turn came to pass

The savior was cursed by the same middle class

They said John had a demon, he tasted no wine

And Christ was a glutton, with drunkards he dined



Their lines were not cute, nor their gestures or voice

They played with the flute but the crowd didn't rejoice

The watchmen had sounded their trumpets to warn

They chanted a dirge but the people didn't mourn



In Jesus's tradition his followers preached

The world's destitution they touched and they reached

But six thousand years never changed it a bit

The old and the same marketplace



We're looking for miracles, wonders and signs

For a marvelous spectacle we fall in line

For silver and gold and fine raiment and fame

As though they were a prize in a spiritual game



We're deaf and we're mute and we gave them no chance

They fiddled the flute but then nobody danced

They're true to their words and their pledges they kept

They sang in a dirge but nobody wept