When I was just eleven, I died and rose again - a symbol to transcend the watery grave.
There the cup uncovered, I shone the light within - the radiance on my prepubescent face And I'm waiting for the day when I don't have to be the strong one.
I'm looking for the star that I can wish upon to be free. And I sing alleluia to the cold winter air. I breathe alleluia in my lungs.
I sing alleluia as the whistle starts to blow, another day has begun. Only three years later, I stood upon a stage and ministered to thousands by the road.
In that ban*l moment, I felt the touch of fire - the transformation of a teenage boy