I dreamed I saw St. Augustine alive as you or me,
Tearing through these quarters in the utmost misery.
With a blanket underneath his arm and a coat of solid gold,
Searching for the very souls who already had been sold.

"Arise, arise," he cried so loud in a voice without restraint.
"Come out, ye gifted kings and queens and hear my sad complaint.
No martyr is among you now whom you can call your own
So go on you way accordingly, but know you're not alone.

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine alive with fiery breath
And I dreamed I was amongst the ones who put him out to death.
Oh, I awoke in anger so alone and terrified.
I put my fingers against the glass and bowed my head and I cried.