Shelter From The Sand 가사

Nothing could save the Baptist Not cross, not altar, nor crucifix Old time lays waste the spirit Without condoning or condemning A complex sense of purpose For those with eyes to see "This town is afraid of me With good reason, It has see my true face" Walking freely among the enemy The Baptists lack of inner capacity Philosophical sagacity It is not seen as a defect But as a sign of strength A sign of strength "I shall lay my hands upon you Feel my hands touch you" As if the eyes of the blind come open Here is the servant In whom my soul delights Ancient sadness of desert sands An unending hymn of praise To the Sanhedrin of Sheol Everything is real Everything dies "I shall my hands upon you Feel my hands touch, touching you..." Here's the one in who my soul delights Close enough to touch yet out of reach Everything is real Everything dies ...close enough to touch you...