The Words of Larry Norman

Outsider Faith

Larry Norman was the original rebel poet of rock and roll theology—a wild-haired troubadour who fused gospel with grit, scripture with satire, and protest with praise. Emerging from the counterculture haze of the late 1960s, Norman refused to choose between faith and rebellion. His lyrics were raw, poetic, and unapologetically confrontational, challenging both the church and the mainstream with lines like “Why should the devil have all the good music?” He sang of injustice, hypocrisy, and spiritual longing with the urgency of a street preacher and the soul of a beat poet.

More than just a pioneer of Christian rock, Norman was a genre-defying provocateur whose albums played like sermons wrapped in psychedelic riffs and folk lamentations. He blurred the line between prophet and punk, crafting songs that felt like open letters to a broken world. With his haunting voice and poetic defiance, he carved out a space where belief could be radical, art could be sacred, and rebellion could be holy. Norman didn’t just perform—he bore witness, turning every stage into a pulpit of poetic resistance.

Though I don’t subscribe to Larry Norman’s faith, I resonate deeply with his fervor—the raw conviction that pulsed through every lyric, every performance, every provocation. His passion was uncontainable, and it left an imprint on how I approach life: with boldness, with questioning, with a refusal to compartmentalize art and belief. Norman didn’t just write songs; he carved out existential manifestos, laced with satire, sorrow, and spiritual unrest. Below are some of his lyrics—not as doctrine, but as poetic fuel—for your consideration.

Here are some of his lyrics for your consideration…

—

i don’t believe in politics
while the masses stay unfed
til the leaders change priorities
and supply the poor with bread
don’t believe in the revolution
or the empty words of peace
you can tear all of the governments down
you still won’t find release

—

i’ve searched all around the world to find a grain of truth
i’ve opened the mouth of love and found a wisdom tooth

—

i’ve always heard thou shalt not kill
what are we doing in vietnam?
why do we have the electric chair?
why did we build the neutron bam?
i dont believe in the moonshot
how many millions was that worth?
if you wanna show up the russians
then just feed all the poor on earth

—

you are far across the ocean
in a war that’s not your own
and while you’re winning theirs
you’re gonna lose the one at home

you say all men are equal all men are brothers
then why are the rich more equal than others
don’t ask me for the answer i’ve only got one
that a man leaves his darkness
when he follows the son

—

goliath had a sword, david had a stone
i have got the lord so i am not alone
if you knock me down brother
i will not fight you back
coz god loves all his children
red white yellow brown and black

—

you think it’s such a sad thing
when you see a fallen king
then you find out
they’re only princes to begin with
and everybody has to choose
whether they will win or lose
follow god or sing the blues
and who they’re gonna sin with
what a mess the world is in
i wonder who began it
don’t ask me
i’m only visiting this planet

—

you could be a brilliant surgeon
or a sweet young virgin
or a harlot out to sell
you could learn to play the blues
or be howard hughes
or the scarlet pimpernell
you could be a french provincial midwife
or go from door to door with a death-knife
but without love you ain’t nothing…

you could be a woman feeler
or a baby stealer
you could drink your life away
or you could be a holy prophet
get a blessing off it
or you could fast for fifty days
you could shake hands with the devil
or give your life to god on the level
but without love you ain’t nothing…

—

if we could live in shakespeare’s day
i wonder who’d we’d see
if people then could live today
i wonder what we’d see

they’d probably stop a corner cop
and ask what the whole world’s coming to
if people then could live today
i wonder what they’d do
yes i wonder what they’d do

would romeo and juliet
watch nelson eddy kiss jeanette?
would bacchus read police gazette?
and window peep at silhouette?
would ceasar pay to see the mets?
would icarus join the jet set?
would satan smoke menthol cigarettes?
would samson razor with gillettes?

would henry viii use etiquette
in a busy new york luncheonette?
would cleopatra die when when bit?
or save herself with a tourniquet?
would beethoven join a jazz quartet?
would ben hur drive a blue corvette?
would aristotle be an acid head?
would cain kill abel with a bayonet

nothing really changes
everything remains the same
we are what we are
till the day that we die

In the end, Larry Norman remains for me less a preacher than a provocateur—an artist who wielded faith like a flamethrower and poetry like a scalpel. His work reminds me that conviction, even when I don’t share its source, can be a powerful creative force. I don’t echo his theology, but I admire his audacity: to speak truth as he saw it, to challenge systems, and to turn personal belief into public art. His lyrics linger not as gospel, but as sparks—igniting thought, emotion, and the kind of restless questioning that fuels my own path.