The Healer

I lay before you wounded and bleeding

Heal me, Oh my healer

I asked the one I thought was you

And wounds I got were deeper

Heal me, my healer with your water holy and pure

I lay before you in pain but brave

Bless me with a drop from your fountain;

Pour it on my parched lips, and I’ll be cured

And I won’t beg for more

I will see you again, in another face,

at another time

heal me, my healer so that I can walk

hold me in your grip firm

and make me stand on my feet again

with your kindness beaming at me through your eyes

give me a reason to smile

my healer, make my heart fertile
so I can grow love

And feed the land of hungry, and help the poor

Though I am hungry and I am poor

But my lord, I have you

And you make me gold with your touch of Midas

You make me rich, you make me sated

And bless me with the wealth that can’t be stolen, that can’t be lost

Oh my healer, heal my scars and wash away the filth

My wounds are full of dirt,

my face is dark and burnt

and who will take a broken toy but you

Heal me, my healer

I give myself to you