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.
Wade in the water, wade.
Wade in the water, wade.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade.
Let the flood swell.
Let the flood swell.
Let the flood swell.
Let the flood swell, thank the storm for her tears.
The faithful say its beautiful, it's God's will.
But the fool knows what the prophets have seen, no salvation's impending.
The faithful say it's beautiful, its gods will let the flood swell,
And the bodies that break will 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 fill your lungs. Come and fill your lungs.
Come and fill your lungs. Come and fill your lungs.
Come and fill your lungs. Come and fill your lungs.
Come and fill your lungs. Come and fill your lungs.
There's so much hope buried underneath tragedy,
There's so much hope buried underneath tragedy,
It's the same shade as concrete.
There's so much hope buried underneath tragedy,
There's so much hope buried underneath tragedy,
It's the same shade as concrete.
The faithful say it's beautiful, it's God's will, let the flood swell.
On the loudspeaker sermons and a parish descending.
There's so much hope buried underneath tragedy,
(Let the flood swell.)
It's the same shade as concrete.
Let the flood swell.