| Rejoice, rejoice a noble birth
|
| A prince is born
|
| Behold the birth of violence
|
| Beasts of fang and feather cry for our concrete rapture
|
| And if we beg to be put down
|
| Unto us the most inspired storm
|
| A princess ravaged by her prince
|
| Behold the birth of sex and distance
|
| Two frail corpses both were they
|
| His eyes were the first to stray
|
| Every tree held fast the earth to sky
|
| Concrete replaces every branch and twig as they were frayed
|
| Upon the birth of ambition
|
| The heavens filled our gilded vessel with poison tears
|
| Before we drink, I propose a toast, a final prayer
|
| Here’s to the watchers in the wood, here’s to the last days
|
| Unto us a most inspired song
|
| Shaper, stop the music
|
| Halt the harp strings whose chords confuse our histories with textures
|
| With the disheartened chorus of a hymnal whose choir is the conviction of the
|
| starving, artless
|
| Tempted by the feast of proof
|
| That this body, that this body of work has worth
|
| Uncertain as the fingering
|
| Of a chord torn prematurely from a piano’s womb
|
| As we fill our precious lungs with concrete, that faithful shade
|
| A shaper’s song is stopped short
|
| A dying breath a singing shore
|
| Then the only movement and the last remains of grace
|
| Pollen falling off the simple hinge joint leg upon the final breath of a
|
| dragonfly
|
| A cardinal, lost but headstrong in mid flight cries for our concrete rapture
|
| Wade in the water, wade
|
| Wade in the water
|
| Wade in the water, child
|
| (Let the flood swell)
|
| Let the flood swell
|
| Thank the storm for her tears
|
| The faithful say its beautiful, its god’s will
|
| But the fool knows what the prophets have seen
|
| No salvation’s impending
|
| The faithful say its beautiful
|
| Its god’s will let the flood swell and the bodies that break
|
| We’ll just float down the river
|
| Stay tame, soft river
|
| While we weigh our faith, stay sweet
|
| Run softly, sweet river
|
| The fool who wades in doubt will float like concrete
|
| Come and, come and fill your lungs
|
| There’s so much hope buried underneath
|
| There’s so much hope buried underneath
|
| There’s so much hope buried underneath tragedy
|
| It’s the same shade as concrete
|
| The faithful say its beautiful
|
| Its god’s will, let the flood swell
|
| On the loudspeaker sermons and a parish descending
|
| There’s so much hope buried underneath tragedy
|
| It’s the same shade as concrete
|
| Let the flood swell |