Raving Jesus.
Let’s not go to war today.
The bright little flowers had it right
When they proclaimed
“Make love, not war.”
Was it Jesus who said “love thy neighbour”?
Or did I see it printed shakily
On a cardboard sign
Held not by Bob Dylan, but a man
A denizen of the street
Tinfoil sprinkled through his hair
Like comets in a greasy night’s sky.
He’s the kind of guy that
Loves to dance
(It keeps him warm, it stops his toes
From turning black and falling off)
Always has something nice to say
( “Eff this, eff that- gimme my money!”)
And if you give him a penny for his thoughts
(That’s what the cup by his feet is for, hombre)
He will reward you with a head full of nonsense
More worth for your money
Though you won’t see it that way.
This man could be
The Son of God
But honestly, if he was-
Would it matter?
That ratty old beard would still hang off his chin
Like a dead rat clamped to the tongue of a clam.
Maybe he’d have a nice new dress
A pair of sandals
A donkey or two
But who in the world needs two asses?
So this man
Man of garbage
King of muck
Will stand on his street corner
Til the end of time
And beyond.
For that may be how long
He’ll have to wait
Before someone realises
Under the beard,
He’s a pretty nice guy.
The bright little flowers had it right
When they proclaimed
“Make love, not war.”
Was it Jesus who said “love thy neighbour”?
Or did I see it printed shakily
On a cardboard sign
Held not by Bob Dylan, but a man
A denizen of the street
Tinfoil sprinkled through his hair
Like comets in a greasy night’s sky.
He’s the kind of guy that
Loves to dance
(It keeps him warm, it stops his toes
From turning black and falling off)
Always has something nice to say
( “Eff this, eff that- gimme my money!”)
And if you give him a penny for his thoughts
(That’s what the cup by his feet is for, hombre)
He will reward you with a head full of nonsense
More worth for your money
Though you won’t see it that way.
This man could be
The Son of God
But honestly, if he was-
Would it matter?
That ratty old beard would still hang off his chin
Like a dead rat clamped to the tongue of a clam.
Maybe he’d have a nice new dress
A pair of sandals
A donkey or two
But who in the world needs two asses?
So this man
Man of garbage
King of muck
Will stand on his street corner
Til the end of time
And beyond.
For that may be how long
He’ll have to wait
Before someone realises
Under the beard,
He’s a pretty nice guy.