
Date of issue: 03.10.2011
Record label: No Sleep
Song language: English
St. Paul Missionary Baptist Church Blues |
Stained-glass and the choir sing out that strong and ceaseless chorus here |
So sweet the voices, sweep like leaves into the street |
On Eastern, a celebration carried on for God and hope and refuge |
To keep each other, life; |
give shelter from the storm. |
And keep warm |
The congregation gathers outside in the parking lot, each service done |
They keep the old hymn rolling on and on and |
I see the scene in color each day driving out to Eastown |
That old abandoned church and have I gone the same sad way? |
Have I gone the same sad way? |
Through the sixties flourished and the seventies in flux |
The eighties fluctuate each year unclear of when the money would dry up |
And when the nineties violent crime and rising unemployment rates came by |
That parking lot grew dim and thin of sinners and saints |
Until the voices, unceasing, slowly faded to black |
Until the weeds stormed the concrete from unattended cracks |
It had to know, had to feel that glory never coming back |
Like I could feel it when the passion left, the last of what I had |
It had to know like I knew |
And I can’t find it back |
Might not ever. |
Ten years now standing vacant |
Ten years on empty, maybe more |
Once held the faith of hundreds |
Soon one more cell phone store |
For years they gathered here |
Inside the building sound and true |
To sing their praises to a god that gave them hope |
To carry on, to carry through |
So, I’ve been thinking about that |
Sometimes go slow when I drive by |
How a home of stone and a house so holy |
Grows so empty over time |
What gave those people purpose |
Past death approaching constantly |
Now left to crumble slowly |
Now left to wither with the weeds |
Now left to ice and vandals |
The advent candles long since gone |
The old foundation shifting hard |
The concrete overgrown, but |
That stained-glass window sits untouched amongst the brickwork worn |
A symbol of the beauty only perfect at that moment we were born |
And just the other day I swear I saw a man there |
Pulling weeds out of the concrete, sweeping up and patching cracks |
I saw him lift a rag to wash the years of filth from off those windows |
Made me wonder if there’s anyone like that for you and me and |
Anybody else who broke and lost hope |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Such Small Hands | 2018 |
Andria | 2018 |
The Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit | 2011 |
King Park | 2011 |
Said the King to the River | 2018 |
New Storms for Older Lovers | 2018 |
Fall Down, Never Get Back Up Again | 2018 |
Damaged Goods | 2018 |
Bury Your Flame | 2018 |
How I Feel | 2010 |
Safer in the Forest/Love Song for Poor Michigan | 2011 |
Nobody, Not Even the Rain | 2018 |
Woman (reading) | 2014 |
Thirteen | 2016 |
Nine | 2015 |
Last Blues for Bloody Knuckles | 2018 |
Sad Prayers for Guilty Bodies | 2018 |
The Castle Builders | 2018 |
Woman (in mirror) | 2014 |
Future Wars | 2006 |