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Street preach,
break it down for the peeps
Tell 'em what the Invisible eyes
in the skies see
Street preacher,
break it down for the people
Tell 'em what all the homogenized lies
in disguise be
Even when you give them the hardwood truth,
they still call you woodpecker crazy
I remember how you laid it all out to me
once before
Divined the Scrabble tiles on the basement floor,
at the psychiatric hospital
I see the years have treated you well,
harnessing the uncanny ability to foretell
Too bad no one truly listens to you,
Nazarenes are always treated like they're fools
But I'm glad to see you still grinding
with those sharp spiritual tools
Keep on street preaching,
keep on awaking the lost peeps that are sleep
Day job: shepherd the grazing sheep
Night job: guide them to God's grace safely
Fold your sackcloth neatly
after you're no longer permitted
to speak openly
I hear those sirens coming to get you, street preach
Coming to carry your voice far away out of reach
When you're gone,
who will break the truth down to the people?
O Lord, I beseech,
will it be me who will now have to teach?

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