From the recording I Dreamed I Was A Weapon

In cart Not available Out of stock


Samson (I Dreamed I Was A Weapon)
© 1998, 2000 Michael R. J. Roth

The weather’s got its hair up
And I’m talking to the air
Caught up in the spirit
In the madness on Times Square

I’m telling all my secrets
While I’m passing out these tracts
And everybody treats me like
The jawbone of an ass

I dreamed I was a weapon
A sword of polished steel
And I dreamed I had a power
That no one else could feel.
They say that I am foolish
That I’ve got no sense at all
But I’m standing on the corner
While I watch the nations fall

They’re scared of bombs and bullets
They’re afraid of poison gas
Of signs and falling objects
Of energy and mass

They know their friends are phony
But their enemies are true
In a minute they will make
Another enemy of you


Now all the world has gathered
In this desert made of gold
Where everything that mattered once
Is melted from the soul

They’ve set their plans on altars
Made of concrete, steel and glass,
While God walks down the street and swings
The jawbone of an ass