Hilltop Over Wabash Video (MV)

I was raised in black and white
Bathed in Indiana light
The bible belt was buckled tight
We lived without a care
The shadow of your steeple lay
Across the lawn where we would play
Our ball games nearly everyday
Until the streetlights flared
Everything was simple
Like the point where day becomes the night
The difference between ball and strike
And what was foul and fair
Up atop the left-field crest
The flock convened in Sunday best
You rose up like a man possessed
To lead the town in praise
You slicked back that gunmetal hair
You looked more wolf than man up there
All shoulders hunched and feral glare
Your brimstone and your blaze
You fumed and frothed and shook your fists
At folks Beelzebub enlists
Like all those crosstown Methodists
With all their foolish ways
In my cap and gown you pulled me close
And you shoved your hand in mine
Said "Everybody's talking about you, boy
And how high we see you flying"
From your hilltop over Wabash
You laid your judgment down
Baptized all the sinners
Sanctified the town
Thy rod and staff they comfort me
My shepherd and my rock
Blessed be the faithful of the flock
Little man on campus came
With Jesus in a picture frame
Ripe for a perspective change
From black and white to grays
And then a rainbow full of hues
Playing euchre, two by two
With atheists, a pair of Jews
And Mark and Tom, the gays
And when the pizza driver came
We divvied up the slices, same
For every player in the game
No matter how he plays
Your judgment came in black and white
In the paper of our town
Said "Everybody's talking about you, boy
And how low you've sunken down"
From your hilltop over Wabash
You laid your judgment down
Cast out all the sinners
Purified the town
Thy rod and staff they battered me
My shepherd and my rock
Shame upon the fringes of the flock
Here is the church
Here is the steeple
Open the doors
Where do the people go
The hungry and the weak
The battered and the bleak
They question and they seek
Live unafraid to speak
Thirty-seven-odd years on
Someone mows that summer lawn
But not you, sir, your steeple's gone
They carted it away
Sunbeams fell on empty pews
A church with no one to abuse
Folks said they could really use
A car wash in its place
You made your way to Michigan
Then on to meet your maker
When you're standing there in front of him
Do you recognize his face
And when he comes to judge you
Will the penalty be steep
'Cause for a man doing all of that shepherding
You sure lost a lot of sheep
From your hilltop over Wabash
You spoke your gospel true
Rid the hall of sinners
Rid the town of you
You call yourself a shepherd
But you couldn't give a flock
The kind of love it can't get from a rock
Thy rod and staff they drove me out
And all the rest, as well
Maybe we will see you again in hell