Tiny Boy

Tiny Boy

Tiny boy in Bethlehem
You are not like these other men
Born and raised on Garden streets
You walk here now in search of some Golden Fleece
And fleet of meat for you to command
A mighty tall task you do demand
Do you alone believe you will stand?
Amongst the rubble, the toil and trouble
Beneath your skin lay a sickness that bubbles
But you march on, to the beat of your own tune
You've crept through the darkness, but march to noon.
Unite your love and adversaries
Drink the sun and deny the mercenary
You alone lead troops, who follow for no fame nor money
You're not alone in leading troops from the war torn
And instead lead them to life and love and inhibit scorn.