| Once upon a time | And out walks Jesus |
| There was a God | All over again; |
| Who so loved the world | Out stalks the |
| That he gave his son | Grinning, striding Jesus. |
| His only son. | Tight-lipped |
| And they took that son | Little people |
| And they hung him on a cross | Hover all day |
| And that son died. | Around the tomb |
| And they buried the son— | And cover it with |
| Sealed him up tight. | Incense |
| But God said, | And bow before it |
| “Oh no you don’t” | And walk before it |
| And he rolled back the rock, | And sigh before it; |
| He unsealed his son | And pray to it |
| And his son came out, | And sing to it |
| Came out walking and breathing | And weep to it |
| And he was Alive. | And lean on it. |
| And he’s alive today | And weep to it |
| And he walks around | And lean on it. |
| And he stalks around | And no one |
| Breathing life and life | Notices |
| Every morning just before dawn | Or at least |
| For thousands of years | They pretend not |
| Little grim people— | To notice, |
| Preachers and bankers and | The living |
| Storekeepers and students— | Breathing |
| Sneak up to the grave and | Walking |
| Roll back the stone | Talking |
| To seal it up tight. | Jesus |
| And every morning | Out on the |
| God roars | Edge calling |
| “Oh no you don’t!” | “Hey!” |
| And he flings back the stone. | “Hey you!” |
