Letra de Pieta (La Piccola)
Doubting Thomas parks his car in his Sunday best Taps his wallet, straightens tie, lights a cigarettePilgrim's progress, no journey's end Which way Michael?Through the door he scans the bar, then a space appears His drink is poured, for he is numb, the service it starts hereHe sees it in the barmaid's face, a winning smile's caress A million eyes in public stalk, the queue up to confessLost causes, loves, hates and shames, old battles fought and won Bad debts, bad tips, the graveyard song, the dreamers talk in tonguesHaloes swarm, the air is thin, thick smoke in tights of blue Elvis has a wooden heart, eyes dart across the roomEmpty heads and stomachs full, the ashtrays overflow Drinks are raised and voices praise good deeds of long agoHe drains his glass and makes a sign, the Virgin Queen appears The Prince King needs a tender touch, his sacred heart knows no fearUpon a cloud on optic shrine, he can't control his tears On his knees, hands held in prayer, a practice lapsed for yearsThe altar clears, the light grows dim, the sanctus bell is rung A miracle at closing time, our lady holds her sonThe faithful come to celebrate the vision Thomas saw A rail now stands around the spot where Thomas kissed the floorAmen