Lyrics Reconcile

A bum Santa in a Christmas Hat
Told me the story of how he got where he’s at
I left him standing there still on trial
Now he’s gone, out of style, out of time
Reconcile

He ran a comb through his death pale hair
Pacing the ground with a mocking grin
Heard the angels knocking but he would not let them in
Now he’s gone, out of style, out of time
Reconcile

Come to Marion’s on Bowery and 3rd
We’ll crawl the catwalk til the cows come home
He said I always hated waking up alone
Now he’s gone, to who knows where
And I don't much care

A man cut from a different cloth
Bought a toy pistol for a very small cost
Took out forty sinners praying in the mosque
And murderers come back in style, back in town
Reconcile

The taxi driver was bleeding like Abel
Burning up like the middle of the sun
He got religion from the wrong end of a smoking gun
Now he’s gone, out of style, out of time
Reconcile