(Part One)nnTell me what you want me to thinknYou can lead me to water, you can make me drinknnI trust you if you say it's goodnYou wouldn't hurt me and I don't think you couldnnTell me what I don't need to keepnI overpacked and the sidewalk is steepnTo your cathedral at the Tapenade Hilln'Makes me tired, and dear, it always willnnTell me why I haven't been healednI haven't changed, and nothing's been revealednAnd what's in the blood of the way and the lightnThat makes my sin Sunday morning, and makes me drunk at nightnnTell me that I'm more than a dream,nA golden hell prize you failed to redeemnnDon't tell me that you've always knownnThat I'd wake up first, and you'd wake up alonenn(Part Two)nnSweet young man, goes walking down the street wiping blood off his handsnAnd it doesn't look good but he does what he cannTo erase the signsnOf a nightmare he facednAt the scene of the crimennShe snuck up behind himnAs he knelt by her victimnWhispered, I knew you'd comenBut there's nothing to be done,nAnd if I was you, I'd runn'Cause no one caresnAbout what you feltnWhen they see any sighs of guiltnYou kissed its face,nYou held its handnYou always were a sweet young man.nnHe's still a mess,nSo he hires a carnTo take him to the fountainnAt Balboa ParknWhere he used to playnWhen he was youngnHe's gonna wash offnIn front of God and everyone.