From the recording What I Heard, What I Saw
"What I Heard, What I Saw" was born from nearly a decade of wrestling with, and re-discovering, some of the stories which fed Kristen’s youth. Pulled from the pages of the gospel of Mark, these songs render flesh and bone, ache and longing to the outcasts, prophets and would-be followers that inhabit those ancient stories. More than that, the album is a confessional: a candid retelling of Kristen’s own journey stumbling through hard questions towards faith, finding meaning in the grit and dust of roads unknown. Collaborating with award-winning producer/guitarist Murray Pulver (The Bros. Landreth, Steve Bell, Red Moon Road), Kristen offers a folk meditation on these challenging narratives which have informed deep conviction and creativity among the religious and non-religious alike for generations.
Lyrics
Oh all you that cry out
“Unholy, unclean”
You untouchable shadows
You face of disease
All you men breaking bread in the gutters
Praying, “Tomorrow we die”
All you daughters and mothers, cast aside
Oh all you ragged holders-on to life
This ends here, where the wretched meet the road
This is taking my chances and leaving for home
I’m stepping out of the shadows
To deal with the light
To beg a man to give me back my life
Oh all you that drive out
The filthy, the weak
You that shove to the shadows
Every wound you can see
All you keepers of hallowed and holy
Standing guard of the door
Let us in to the glory you hide and hoard
The people need a god we can afford
This ends now, as we’re staring at the dawn
This is highway home, tearing at the walls
We’re coming over the thresholds
And into the light
This is someone given back their life
So now I’m where I belong
With a name and a home inside these city walls
While he’s out in the shadows
A man on the road
A healer I know
What I heard, what I saw
That no god, no man
Would touch my skin before
But he took my bare hand in both of his own
Now he’s outside of the city,
Tossed to the night
It’s like he traded in his rights for mine
So if it’s the same old story
That ends well for some
Tell me, when’s the revolution gonna come?