This is surely not the pop power-strike P-Rock was asking for, but given my own songwriting parameters for the round, I tried to be as melodic and hooky as possible. This one is based on the fifth story in Flannery O'Connor's A Good Man Is Hard To Find collection, "A Temple of the Holy Ghost," an oddball little story about an unusual 12-year-old confronting grace and the meaning of the assertion that the body is a temple. I tried to stay as close as I could to Patrick's 1:30 time range, but if I do come back to this one, it's certainly going to require another verse or two to flesh out the lyric; it's kinda hopelessly vague with only two verses and a chorus ...
lyrics
All god’s own creatures, the angels and freaks
All kinds of colors and shapes
Not what they asked for, the mild nor the meek
This is the way that he wanted
I never could be no heavenly saint
All eaten by the sin of pride
I could be a martyr if they’d do it real quick
the arrows pierced deep in my sides
Finger of light up and around
Searching the air for the lost sun
The body unbroken, the grace in the cracks
Guarding the temple tonight
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