Rhonda Harris St. John
I was sitting in the sun, speaking to St John
Realizing small things like I´m not the only one
He was hiding in the sun, smiles for anyone
Though undoubtedly he knew his Easter had begun
Babeyes crucified in the course of Easter time
One of my blue eyes has gone, likewise for St John
It afflicts me much to see this holy body´s wound
Babeyes crucified in the course of Easter time
I am not the only one, neither is St John
To have had imaginary worlds to depend on