Up those stone steps I climb
  Hail this joyful day's return
  Into its great shadowed vault I go
  Hail the Pentecostal morn
    The reading is from Luke 24
  Where Christ returns to his loved ones
  I look at the stone apostles
  Think that it's alright for some
    And I wish that I was made of stone
  So that I would not have to see
  A beauty impossible to define
  A beauty impossible to believe
    A beauty impossible to endure
  The blood imparted in little sips
  The smell of you still on my hands
  As I bring the cup up to my lips
    No God up in the sky
  No devil beneath the sea
  Could do the job that you did, baby
  Of bringing me to my knees
    Outside I sit on the stone steps
  With nothing much to do
  Forlorn and exhausted, baby
  By the absence of you