The Moshing Floor

Steve Taylor

Once upon an average morn

An average boy was born for the second time

Prone upon the altar there

He whispered up the prayer he'd kept hid inside



The vision came

He saw the odds

A hundred little gods on a gilded wheel

"These will vie to take your place, but Father,

by your grace I wil never kneel"



And I saw you, upright and proud

And I saw you wave to the crowd

And I saw you laughing out loud at the Philistines

And I saw you brush away rocks

And I saw you pull up your socks

And I saw you out of the blocks

For the finish line



Darkness falls

The devil stirs

And as your vision blurs you start stumbling

The heart is weak

The will is gone

And every strong conviction comes tumbling down



Malice rains

The acid guile is sucking at your shoes while the mud is fresh

It floods the trail

It bleeds you dry

As every little god buys its pound of flesh



And I saw you licking your wounds

And I saw you weave your cocoons

And I saw you changing your tunes for the party line

And I saw you welsh on old debts

I saw you and your comrades bum cigarettes

And you hemmed and you hawed

And you hedged all your bets

Waiting for a sign



Let's wash our hands as we throw little fits

Let's all wash our hands as we curse hypocrites

We're locked in the washroom turning old tricks

Deaf

And joyless

And full of it



The vision came

He saw the odds

A hundred little gods on a gilded wheel

"These have tried to take your place, but Father,

by your grace I will never kneel

I will never kneel..."



Off in the distance

Bloodied but wise

As you squint with the light of the truth in your eyes



And I saw you

Both hands were raised

And I saw your lips move in praise

And I saw you steady your gaze

For the finish line



Every idol like dust

A word scattered them all

And I rose to my feet when you scaled the