I found a bead beneath my bed -
Round and heavy, made of lead -
I put it in my pocket thin
And moved without a bit of dread.
A man upon the corner street
Pulled a gun the second we did meet
Shouting, "Empty hands, where it stands
You'll give me all or be all beat."
I fumbled 'round my pocket rim,
The bead I felt, I looked at him;
Growing hot in a jetting jot
The bead burned and sang a hymn.
This hymn was loud and fierce
And rocked my foe, a pierce
Through his soul, encompassed whole
A bolt of light through him sears.
Released my grasp, stood in awe,
I beheld the bead with gaping maw,
Tucked it in, warm within,
I felt a cheer with all who saw.