The Eyes Of The Blind Shall See
As it was told, lo and behold
The truth will set you free
And now I know that it is so
The eyes of the blind shall see

I. Den of Iniquity
I’m not cut out for sainthood, I’m not a perfect man
The list of things I ain’t could stretch from here to Ketchikan
I try to see a half-full cup, just to get along
But I make sure to mess it before it all goes wrong
Once, the hand of fate damn near knocked me off my rocker
So I figured I’d self-medicate in a sea of Johnny Walker
Things go from bad to worse when you partake without control
From the liquid breakfast menu at the local watering hole
My thirst sure needed quenching and each shot went down with ease
Until I came to the attention of the authorities
Two officers approached me, one was surly, one was gruff
The surly one reproached me, said, “I think you’ve had enough”
Well, I smiled and looked straight in his eyes and finished my libation
But he quickly cut me down to size, “Boy, you’re going to the station.”

II. Justice Roll On Like A River
The bailiff said, “All rise, this court is now in session”
And my counsel offered shrewd advice to make a good impression
The bailiff barked, “The Honorable Judge Joseph Robert Braun presiding!” I stood up, let out a yawn, and then things got exciting
For my condition was inadequate to appear in county court
Before the local magistrate, who’s not the friendly sort
The judge said, “Deja vu, it looks like you’re in another jam
Son, what the hell is wrong with you?” I said, “I just don’t give a damn”
Now, be that as it may, and it really, truly was
My rebel roots were on display, I only lacked a cause
And I should’a acted meek and kind, not ornery and rude
But I was out of my fool mind and just not in the mood
I said, “I do admit, and God knows I seek no pardon
For doing all the things I did, but I’m no John Wesley Hardin
It’s true that I can’t hold a job, but I can damn sure hold a grudge
So tell me something, Billy Bob, who died and made you judge?”
I don’t consider consequences, and they say crime never pays
But he sure brought me to my senses, “Ninety days!”

III. The Least Of My Brethren
Sure as clockwork, without fail, it happens now and then
I end up in county jail, “Hey fellas, it’s me again!”
If you’ve never been to lock-up, it’s a bleak road to Perdition
And nothing you can’t chalk up to your own dumb-ass decision
That leads to tears and sorrow and profound misery
For every lost tomorrow you’re condemned to never see
The prison guard took me on that long walk to my incarceration
We dispensed of small talk and sparkling conversation
But he must have found it quite sublime to spout that old cliche,
“You do the crime, you do the time,” Hmm, easy for him to say
He didn’t change expression, kept looking straight ahead
But he made a deep impression, and this is what he said
“The sad dregs of humanity languish in these halls
And I’ve known the sheer insanity of life inside these walls
But I’ve learned a thing or two, it makes no difference whether
You’re a convict or a screw, ‘cause we’re all in this together
Lonely riders in the dust storm who ache for what we’re missin’
But we all wear a uniform, and we’re all stuck in prison.

IV.
The Light Shineth In Darkness
When I stepped into my dingy cell and heard the door slam shut
It rang out like a death knell that echoed in my gut
In the shadows, I suspected, was a room barren and stark
And then my eyes slowly detected an old man praying in the dark
I could not refrain from staring and muttering, “What the heck?”
When I saw that he was wearing a white collar on his neck
As he knelt there on the dirty floor, I asked, somewhat sincere,
“Reverend, what’re you in for, you don’t belong in here”
And like a revelation, he spoke, “We all must sin
For we all dance with temptation and we all give in”
As an unreformed offender, it’s not my nature to console
But I was coming off a bender and he was on a roll
I’ve heard it all before, but I figured, his sacred words can determine
If I’m born again on this here cot due to his fine sermon
He slowly struggled to his feet, so frail it seemed impossible
But his eyes lit up like Bourbon Street when he preached the holy gospel
“Some live with the torment of Faustian agreements
The good in them is dormant and they surrender to their demons
And some reject The Holy Ghost for they cannot see a wraith
Their hearts and minds forever closed to one small leap of faith
But others seek the promised land, then founder on the shoals
Before they feel His mighty hand come down to save their mortal souls
Your path is what you make it, it’s always been that way, of course
If you’ll just choose to take it, and the choice is always yours.”
I’ve often failed to do what’s right, and I’ve never known God’s grace
But I swear a glorious shaft of light beamed through the window on my face
It did
I sat stunned in utter silence, like a blind man when he sees
And as the spirit filled my body, I fell down upon my knees
Thankful for a teacher who revealed to me such glory
I looked up at the preacher who had shared his blessed story
And whispered, “What you say is wise. Are we truly saved, pray tell?”
He looked dead in my eyes and said, “I’ll see you down in Hell”

As it was told, lo and behold
The truth will set you free
And now I know that it is so
The eyes of the blind shall see
The eyes of the blind shall see