Once upon an average morn, an average boy was born for the second time,
Prone upon the altar there, he whispered up the prayer he'd kept hid inside,
Vision came, he saw the odds,
A hundred little gods on a gilded wheel,
"These will vie to take your place, but Father, by your grace I will never kneel."

And I saw you, upright and proud,
And I saw you wave to the crowd,
And I saw you laughing out loud at the Philistines,
And I saw you brush away rocks,
And I saw you pull up your socks,
And I saw you out of the blocks for the finish line.

Darkness falls, the devil stirs, and as your vision blurs you start stumbling,
The heart is weak, the will is gone and every strong conviction comes tumbling down,
Malice rains,
The acid guile is sucking at your shoes while the mud is fresh,
It floods the trail and bleeds you dry as every little god buys its pound of flesh.

And I saw you licking your wounds,
And I saw you weave your cocoons,
And I saw you changing your tunes for the party line,
And I saw you welsh on old debts,
I saw you and your comrades bum cigarettes,
And you hemmed and you hawed,
And you hedged all your bets waiting for a sign.

Oh, let's wash our hands as we throw little fits,
Let's all wash our hands as we curse hypocrites,
We're locked in a washroom turning old tricks,
Deaf, and joyless and full of it, oh.

Vision came, he saw the odds,
A hundred little gods on a gilded wheel,
"These have tried to take your place, but, Father, by your grace, I will never kneel,
I will never kneel."

Off in the distance, bloodied but wise,
As you squint with the light of the truth in your eyes.

And I saw you, both hands were raised,
And I saw your lips move in praise,
And I saw you steady your gaze for the finish line,
Oh, every idol, like dust, a word scattered them all,
And I rose to my feet when you scaled the last wall,
And I gasped when I saw you fall in his arms at the finish line.

At the finish line,
Oh, at the finish line.