Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit
Blessed is the lamb whose blood flows
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on
Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?
I got no place to go
I've walked around Soho for the last night or so
Ah, but it doesn't matter, no
Blessed is the land and the kingdom
Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to
Blessed are the meth drinkers, pot sellers, illusion dwellers
Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?
My words trickle down
Like a wound that I have no intention to heal
Blessed are the stained glassed, window pane glass
Blessed is the church service makes me nervous
Blessed are the penny rookers, cheap hookers, groovy lookers
Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?
I have tended my own garden much too long
Writer(s): Paul Simon
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