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The King is Alive

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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