I was not touched by the eyes of Jesus

I was not seen by the hand of God

I was not saved by His Secret Service

Or a mighty angel with a sacred rod.

When I prayed for redemption there was no answer

As I lay alone in my mother's bed

All I heard were the sounds of a thousand colors

Dancing 'round and 'round in my young boy's head

And the nylon stocking I had tucked away there

Like a piece of cloth from the Shroud of Turin

Took away the fear and the fascination

Washed away at last any trace of sin.

And a vision played like a silent movie

in the mirror there on the bedroom wall

Where I stood looking just like St. Jean Harlow

In a sequined gown and a lace trimmed shawl

And I turned and smiled at the girl in the mirror

and she smiled at me and I knew the answer

to my prayers was not in the savior's chambers

but instead in the grace of a ballet dancer.

On that night I slept in the arms of Jesus.

who came dressed in a silken negligee

And his long dark hair flowed like holy water

And it washed the soul which had gone astray.

But the hand of God and His Secret Service

Never touched the boy who lay sleeping there.

Like the silent film starring St. Jean Harlow

We are always blessed by the key grip's prayer.