For the Nativity of John the Baptist.
This song is for the weird ones with fire in their eyes and jumbles on their seared tongues, whose works are strange and wise. Elijah with his anger, who slew the priests of Baal and burned again on Tabor when Christ on glory called. He trembled at the whisper when raging storms were done and called the hearts of fathers back to their long-lost sons. Or John, whose word went thund'ring, from Jordan, far and wide, as soft and sweet as honey when Christ the Lamb he spied. Who knew his own decreasing, the raising of the dead, Good News to poor folks preaching, before he lost his head. So here's to all the odd souls whose bones'll melt like wax if they don't speak their hot coals or try to hold them back. And here's to words like daggers they drive into our hearts to make way for the Rabbi who pulls our chains apart.