Iona Factory Of Magnificent Souls
Thought of you on this island of the leper,
on this island of the mad.
I’ve thought of you on this island of the outcast,
on this island of the sick and sad.
Thought this island had a tragic holiness,
thought it had a painful grace.
Thought it had the ugliest history,
thought this island was, the most beautiful place.
And I saw the altar, of this world’s cruelty
I saw the stadium of the devil’s goals.
And I saw a man, duck and weave the most evil punches.
I saw a factory of magnificent souls.
Thought of you on this island of the limestone
and the pain of dust torn eyes.
Thought of you on this island of the convict
Toiling under the bluest skies.
Looked upon this island of the reconciled
and I saw a stone carved cross.
Thought of you on this island of redemption.
Closed my eyes and thought, of what freedom had cost
And I saw the altar, of this world’s cruelty
I saw the stadium of the devil’s goals.
And I saw a man, duck and weave the most evil punches.
I saw a factory of magnificent souls.
No-one ever asked questions with marks as sharp as these
They pierced the veins of Jesus who was one of the least of these
And no-one ever gave an answer with as gentle a word as this
You took violent indignation,
and you killed it with a political kiss.
And I saw the altar, of this world’s cruelty
I saw the stadium of the devil’s goals.
And I saw a man, duck and weave the most evil punches.
I saw a factory of magnificent souls
