The Nails from the Hands of Christ

The old church doors were open
She walked in stone alone
Standing by the altar
She checked her mobile phone

Her parents left together
They upped and passed away
They left her with their vinyl
She played albums every day

She looked up at an icon
A young man on a cross
He looked just like Bruce Springsteen
He could have been the Boss

The window in the chapel
Was some kind of a rose
The ancient smell of incense
Was getting up her nose

She walked off down the old canal
Tracing footprints of the dead
"What the hell is Jesus?"
A graffiti slogan read

She found a junk shop bargain
Competitively priced
He told her they were kosher
The nails from the hands of Christ

The nails were bent and rusty
As if to make a point
She looked them up on Google
And rolled herself a joint

She didn't see the young man
Quiet before the fire
He looked on in bewilderment
As the music took her higher

He danced the nails around the room
Her endearing poltergeist
He placed them in her bedside drawer
The nails from the hands of Christ

People make excuses
In the innocence of youth
To all intents and purposes
We all disguise the truth

She hunted high and low
To find her precious nails
A guilt lives on within us all
When everything else fails

She thought of all the many things
Her parents sacrificed
In her heart she holds her treasure
The nails from the hands of Christ