boy cried wolf
smith, patti
oh the story's told been told retold
from the sacred scriptures to the
all the fuss and fight none above a
the soul of gold the belly of a boy
well they drew him from the forest
tied him to a tree like st. sebastian
and he turned his head and let the
in the ancient mold they're dancing
calling to the moon but it don't answer
and they fell on their knees
and passed the bowl around
and the blood the blood the
i am the body i am the stream
i am the wake of everything
they bring me flowers that are myself
garlands of blood that are myself
slain the lamb that is himself
torn reborn the cries of our dismay
are nothing to the wind but whose to
kings are lifted up and kings are thrown