My Manifesto: The Incoherent Ramblings of a Madman

A tale of two squares

A solo man with a full-faced beard stands in the square singing loudly to himself "Nothing but the blood of jesus". No hand or hat or implement out for money. He asks for nothing and is in key. Some emo kids, the new goth-punk fusion fashion lay around on the steps nearby - I am yet to work out why they are always either laying around or fly kicking things. Always from extreme to extreme. The museum is on one side with faint lights and construction fences line the other side. A soft glow is over the square. The sun long gone. A soft wind blows.

Two white people are having a dance off. In the park, under spotlight, while a black instructor yells out words of encouragement. The bass can be heard from my apartment. Laughter.

NOTHING BUT THE BLOOD - Will­iam Doane and Ro­bert Low­

What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.


Oh! precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

For my pardon, this I see,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
For my cleansing this my plea,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.


Nothing can for sin atone,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
Naught of good that I have done,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.


This is all my hope and peace,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
This is all my righteousness,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.


Now by this I’ll overcome—
Nothing but the blood of Jesus,
Now by this I’ll reach my home—
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.


Glory! Glory! This I sing—
Nothing but the blood of Jesus,
All my praise for this I bring—
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.