I dreamed I saw St. Augustine, Alive as you or me, Tearing through these quarters In the utmost misery, With a blanket underneath his arm And a coat of solid gold, Searching for the very souls Whom already have been sold. Arise, arise, he cried so loud, In a voice without restraint, Come out, ye gifted kings and queens And hear my sad complaint. No martyr is among ye now Whom you can call your own, So go on your way accordingly But know you're not alone. I dreamed I saw St. Augustine, Alive with fiery breath, And I dreamed I was amongst the ones That put him out to death. Oh, I awoke in anger, So alone and terrified, I put my fingers against the glass And bowed my head and cried.