Living Legends

People tell me the age of myth never was,
But I don't believe it for a second.
You say the Maenads never walked in Greece,
But I saw two at a bar the other week,
Faces and blood as red as wine,
Tearing each other to shreds.

If vampires were never real outside of Stoker's pen,
Then how could I have seen one on TV?
Didn't I see his eyes, and see no soul behind them?
Didn't I see the young victim, skin white as bone?
I knew from her empty voice
That he had taken her life.
Could any man do that?

The Muses can't be just the invention of poets,
Because I heard their songs call to me before.
On lonely nights, under the light of my lamp,
I found their voice in the powder of a pill,
The ecstasy of inspiration
Driving me onward and onward.

And though they tell me the days of Jesus are past,
I swear on my life I see Him all the time.
I once saw Him in a musty room,
Scooping stew onto dinky plates.
I heard His voice on a phone line
As I walked through the valley of the shadow of death,
I saw His face when I woke up in the hospital.

I don't understand why people
Talk of legends like they're gone.
They're all around, if you know where to look.