Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Who Will the Angels Carry Home?

put your race where i can see it
put your life beneath the swamp, down, down
put your laughter in a time machine
cracked me up, back when you weren't dead

heading now for the running river
heading out for a hike above the creek
head is down in my wizard cloak
did you want to be an orc in my story?

stop the presses, i want to scream
stop the fingers from all that wagging
stop the bullets from firing
are you hiring
digging plots in heaven?
think that jesus is a teddy bear
squeeze him in the darkness
then forget that he's there
stop the presses but the sky's on fire
who will sing in this broken choir?
who will the angels carry home?

put your smile in a portrait painting
put your honor on the pavement, fainting
put your son in the casket waiting
talk to me of justice, my dear

heading off to the swamps and the fever
heading off toward the whips in the big house
heading off with pennies where my eyes used to be
talk to me of the only life i had

stop the presses, i want to scream
stop the fingers from all that wagging
stop the bullets from firing
are you hiring
digging plots in heaven?
think that jesus is a teddy bear
squeeze him in the darkness
then forget that he's there
stop the presses but the sky's on fire
who will sing in this broken choir?
who will the angels carry home?

put your race where i can see it
put your life beneath the swamp, down, down
put your laughter in a time machine
cracked me up, back when you weren't dead
when the night was your beautiful friend

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