Up those stone steps I climb

Hail this joyful day's return


Into its great shadowed vault I go


Hail the Pentecostal morn




The reading is from Luke 24


Where Christ returns to His loved ones

I look at the stone apostles


Think that it's alright for some




And I wish that I was made of stone


So that I would not have to see


A beauty impossible to define

A beauty impossible to believe





A beauty impossible to endure

The blood imparted in little sips


The smell of you still on my hands


As I bring the cup up to my lips




No God up in the sky


And no devil beneath the sea

Could do the job that you did, baby


Of bringing me to my knees




Outside I sit on the stone steps


With nothing much to do


Forlorn and exhausted, baby

By the absence of you