by Jeremiah McLane
At the crossroads, I faced a choice,
In return for hard work,
I’d become an artist, give up my soul.
Then I’d never have to feel
the longing and the anguish
the pain and the fear.
Well it seemed like a good deal at the time
but in the fine print it said:
It’s the child who feels these things, and only the child can sing.
At the crossroads, a young boy stands
wonders where I’m bound for.
I’ll make my own way and leave him there.
Cuz what good’s a young boy
when a man must tell his story,
no matter how he lies.
Well it seemed like a good deal at the time
but in the fine print it said:
It’s the child who feels these things, and only the child can sing.
Down at the crossroads
there’s a young man
he’s getting ready to make a deal.
They’ll give him all the gifts to be someone,
and he will never have to feel.
He made a sacrifice, he gave his soul, never knew the cost.
He gained a world of praise and in return, the child in him was lost.
I stand before the boy,
his hand on me, he’s crying
“see what I have found,
here is the mark of god upon this man”
and I fall upon the ground.
Down at the crossroads,
stands a young boy.
His love I truly understand.
He’s looks me in the eye
I realize, this time
I’m gonna go with him.