Searching For His Face

what's that coming down the mountain?
storm-clouds soaked in gold,
we do not turn away
quick enough to save our failing flesh

what's that coming 'cross the desert?
a scare-crow in camelskin clothes,
found myself floating in the water,
my skin as white as new-born snow

and oh, we are willing,
so easy, so eager to please,
so quick to fall down,
to grace the ground with our knees

what's that hanging on the wall?

oh, would you believe me
if I told you that I loved you?