There are no mystic jewels embedded in my prose No moonlit haloed cherubs perched on my piano No lyrics laced with pixie dust, no angels sing along I am just a beggar who gives alms
Gold and silver have I none, but such I have give Thee Borrowed words from the One who gave the gift to me The pearl that I could never buy, this life, this dream, this song And I am just a beggar who gives alms
I am not the creator, but a scribe with a pen I'm recreating visions through a cracked and broken lens Only One has ever seen the home for which we long And I am just a beggar who gives alms
