Sweet songs from empty diaphragms
Roving the streets with melodies
No one pays them for their talent
Still they entertain us for free.
Great artists from time
We do not care to know their names
They beg daily for bread from us
They’re the faces we see today
But tomorrow strangers they be.
Striving to live
They’re the parasite, we’re the host
They’re the cursed so we could be blessed
They’re the twelve seen in one or twos
In Jerusalem and Judea
Spread out to reach us