| Frozen statues in the cold
|
| Washed in moonlight, blue and gold
|
| Mary’s babe in plastic hay
|
| Quiet wonder on her face
|
| Mary you look so serene
|
| Far too pretty, much too clean
|
| We might think we know you well
|
| But what stories would you tell?
|
| Of all the dirt and dust and shame
|
| Everybody burning labour pain
|
| And as I turn to walk away
|
| I hear you say
|
| I am real
|
| Don’t turn me into memory or myth
|
| Let me be real, real
|
| And I’ll show you what it means to love like this
|
| To be real
|
| Shepherds bending to the ground
|
| Bethlehem is safe and sound
|
| Joseph you look brave and true
|
| Do we know what it was like to be you
|
| How many sleepless nights awake
|
| Found you desperate and afraid
|
| And as I turn to walk away
|
| I hear you say
|
| I am real
|
| Don’t turn me into memory or myth
|
| Let me be real, real
|
| And I’ll show you what it means to love like this
|
| To love like you don’t even care about the hurry and the hustle
|
| Like you are unaware December comes with so much trouble
|
| 'Cause you believe a baby came, not in paintings or in plays
|
| But every minute, every hour, every day
|
| To be real, real
|
| You are real, real
|
| Show us how to love like this
|
| To be real
|
| To be real
|
| More than a memory
|
| More than a story
|
| Real |