I've got my own moral compass to steer by. A guiding star beats a spirit in the sky and all the preaching voices-- empty vessels ring so loud as they move among the crowd. Fools and thieves are well disquised in the temple and marketplace.
Like a stone in the river against the floods of spring I will quietly resist.
Like the willows in the wind or the cliffs along the ocean I will quietly resist.
I don't have faith in faith. I don't beleive in belief. You can call me faithless but I still cling to hope. And I believe in love and that's faith enough for me.
I've got my own spirit level for balance to tell if my choice is leading up or down. And all the shouting voices try to throw me off course. Some by sermons, some by force. Fools and thieves are dangerous in the temple and marketplace.
Like a forest bows to winter beneath the deep white silence I will quietly resist.
Like a flower in the desert that only blooms at night I will quietly resist.