Jesus in the wilderness,
trying to survive, I guess,
Satan thought he’d shoot his shot,
to seduce the Son of God,
if you’ll only say the word,
worldly power shall be yours, well
that does not appeal to me,
it’s not even real to me,

you could turn these stones to bread,
conjure up a gourmet spread,
you could have an angel’s love,
Jesus said, “hey, that’s enough”

we both got a job to do,
I’ll do me and you do you, but
we know how the story ends,
there’s no reason to pretend, in a

WORLD OF SHOWs, everybody’s got one with a
starring role, you wake up and you turn it on,
are you the writer or the written,
the heartthrob or the smitten?
no one knows, no one knows..

Jesus thought he’d take a break,
do some sailing on the lake, and
maybe give his Dad a call,
it’d been a minute after all,
still the people followed him,
hoping just to catch a glimpse and
aching for a welcoming word, like a
flock of migratory birds,

you could multiply these fish,
feed 5000, if you wish,
you could clear the leper’s skin,
make the blind one see again,

blessed are the pure in heart,
begging by the boulevard, and
since we all reap as we sow,
blessed are the merciful, in a

WORLD OF SHOWs, everybody’s got one,
a recurring role: you wake up to the morning sun,
are you the writer or the written?
guilty or forgiven?
maybe both, maybe both..

Jesus by the garden gate,
praying for a kinder his fate,
all his friends abandoned him,
you know how the story ends, in a

world of shows, everybody wants more
than a cameo, I think I’ve seen this one before,
are you the writer or the written?
a lighthouse or a prison?
a heartthrob for the smitten?
are you guilty or forgiven?
maybe both, no one knows,
maybe both, no one knows...