This is not an age of faithThis is not an age of miraclesWe don't believe anything they sayWe don't believe anything at allBut when December grabs you by the throatBetter look for something burning deep inside your coat>From the top of this mountainI can see CanaanThe blue of the vineyardAnd gold of the grainRight across that riverCandles flickerIf I didn't know betterI'd call it a dreamThe walls of JerichoAnd the walls of JerusalemCame tumbling down long agoAnd they never got built againWill you stand in the rubble where the rocks and bullets whineWill you stand in the garden, reach your hand across the line>From the top of this mountainI can see CanaanThe blue of the vineyardAnd gold of the grainRight across that riverCandles flickerIf I didn't know betterI'd call it a dreamIn the eyeless streets of Gaza,In the shadow of the Golan HeightsIn the fortress of Masada,Through centuries of nightOne light was always burningEven when the fuel was goneOne light was always burning--and the lights burn on...>From the top of this mountainI can see CanaanThe blue of the vineyardAnd gold of the grainRight across that riverCandles flickerIf I didn't know betterI'd call it a dreamCopyright 1995, Hugh Blumenfeld / Hydrogen Jukebox Music