Liar

It’s an easy thing to tell the truth,
when the rudder in your heart’s a lie
and you’re sailing back to Sodom on
the crimson blood of Jesus Christ.

It’s any easy thing to claim the death
when your life’s back in the cubicle,
when you’re storing up a sack of rust,
and your head and stomach’s always full.

And all I want is you
to come and make that true,
for all the steps I say
to bring my father praise.

It’s an easy thing to drown the ghost
in the holy water written here,
to smooth the rippled whispers down
and paint a soiled conscience clear.

But all I want is you
to come and make it true,
for all the strokes I say
to paint my father’s face.

Oh painted grave, a garden full of weeds,
a footloose path carved out of what I need.
Oh love of mine I’ve opened my legs wide
to every king except the one who died
with healing from his opened side.

It’s an easy thing to love the law
if you wrote it only yesterday.
But it’s difficult to walk the road
where the things you mean are what you say.

But all I want is you
to come and make me true,
for all the words I say
to sing my father’s praise.