The Maharaja

When the Ma-
Haraja comes
He brings the sun
He draws upon
The moon
And all the flowers
Bloom
There he whispers
Onto the air
A grace
So pure and fair
And nature’s voice
Will sing to him
And lift his heart
Upon his wing
To palaces
Of light and gold
The breath of life
Will there unfold
And there are borne
The sacred things
That can’t be touched
Or bound by strings
A soil unbruised
By human pain
He brings the rain
And there he's washed
By heavens tears
And gone are all
His deepest fears
And trust
Will come
Within
The newborn son
The newborn son
The newborn son