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Miracles
 Play Music (2.4 MB)
Copyright Richard Hunter
This song was written during a period when I had more than my normal sense of disillusionment with life in general. Thankfully, I don't feel like this all the time.
There's an old barbarian at the gate
With a tale to relate
About a kid with a slingshot, met his death
When a giant fell and crushed him
With his final breath
And the three wise men who followed a star
And set up shop in a grand bazaar
Selling virgins to the poor
Spiritual investiture
There's a stranger in the camp
With his coat all damp
And the colours leaking out
So as comprehension enters he is less devout
And he tells to us about how he used to dream
Of a flickering fire inside a mountain stream
But that every morning when he awoke
The dream was gone just like a puff of smoke
Do you still, do you still, do you still, do you still
Do you still believe in miracles?
Do you still, do you still, do you still, do you still
Do you still believe in miracles?
Do you see people, dying from the cold?
Do you see the ones, the ones that shall not grow old?
Do you see children crying in the streets?
Do you see them, with nothing at all to eat?
Do you still believe in miracles?
Do you see brothers fighting without cause?
Do you see politicians meddling with the laws?
Do you see soldiers killing at the wailing wall?
Do you honestly see any sign of an end to it all?
Do you still believe in miracles?
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© Beth Hunter |
