Daydreamers Hero

I always was a daydreamer,
I think I always will,
always dreamed I was a hero,
It gave me such a thrill.
in the presents of all heaven,
I used sit back in my pew,
scheme of climbing to the ceiling
And dream of all that I would do…

And when the soldier with the gun,
would come to cause disaster,
I’d swing down from the rafters,
take the shot for everyone.
And when the people would come running,
they’d see me lying there,
they’d throw their hands up in the air,
when they saw what I had done.

And my friends would all stand by,
and they’d hold my dying hand,
I’d tell them that I loved them,
and they’d say they understand.
Then the angels would come down,
and they’d carry me away,
and I’d see the people cry
as they laid flowers on my grave.

One day while I was dreaming,
Napping in my pew,
When daydreaming had failed me,
I gave the sermon my adieu,
In the distance I heard the pastors drone,
As I sat in empty light,
In the center was a radio
Surrounded by bright white,

A little voice inside my head,
said “Turn the volume high,”
I looked at the little radio,
and a knoby caught my eye,
As I turn the little knob,
The light faded away
The pastors voice got louder still,
And from that very day,

I’ve heard about my hero,
spoken loud and clear,
how he lived and died the sacrifice,
through punishment severe,
bearing all my sins to hell,
taking all the blame
how he alone defeat the grave,
Unmarred by any flame.