The Word is God, and I am just The Son
You see, The Son of God is not a word
A flame that cools the heat of everyone
Who breathes the fire of every sound I heard.
And who would be the mother of my life?
Beget the simple Son of some great Word?
What Word would take less than a word to wife
A concubine? Then please don’t be absurd.
They nailed me to a cross; it hurt like hell
And now the cross is worshiped, like the blood
Sanguinis Christi casts a Christian’s spell
And thus begins the ebbing of the flood
The Word is God, and I am just The Son
Pronounce me now, before the day is done.