In ancient Palestine, a Roman middle manager
Dresses down a radical
"I have a backlog of so-called prophets
You are of a multitude"
The offender said, "I witness truth"
Perplexed and filled with pique
The jailer replied, "Truth, what is it?"

Outside of Darlington, 1963
On certain mornings a specter appeared
In a well-appointed back garden
Its voice was still heard
After the sun had burned away its image
Consulting physicists and mediums
The man he realized
It was a relative living a 1000 miles away
Half sister was thinking of him
Very poorly on those mornings

In Northern Michigan
There was an incident in winter
A horse was hit by lightning
And began to speak in a foreign language
When he was finally understood
It repeated, "Humans are no good"
So they shot it behind the shed and stuffed him
He's now on display as a lesson
For the kids to always do your best
Do your best always

Truth is a colicking horse
That serves no purpose
Truth is a babbling prisoner
You'd rather not kill if they confess
Truth is the half sister
That will not be forgotten
Truth is the half sister
That will not forgive

She is trying to reach you
Trying to reach you
She is trying to reach you
Trying to reach you
She is trying to reach you
Trying to reach you
She is trying to reach you
Trying to reach you