I saws the posters popping up around the citynPale blue and washed-out rednI went down to the arena pushing throughnHoping I’d run into younnSweet freshly-scrubbed smell of the crowdnAll the excitement in their eyesnWe were all made young when he stepped onto the stagenLike an animal escaping from his cagennRaise the trumpetnSound the drumnHe whom the prophets spoke of long ago has comennAll of us too dazed to leave when it was overnDawdled by the vendors for a minutenGathered underneath a summer skynI was hoping you’d pass bynnBut though I didn’t see you that day, or the nextnI’m pretty sure that you were therenMaking your way along the young and happy hordenHeaded down to your rewardnnRaise the trumpetnSound the drumnHe whom the prophets spoke of long ago has comenn