Across crimson skies on bleeding hymns
Bitter taste in the human melting pot
Blood and tears mix in the rain
Straw brooms sweep over dusty promises
The dreams - kicked around like old stones
Blowing the doors down, blow them down
Blood and guts caught in the wind
Catching the eye of the hurricane
Where hardship is borne with grace
And fear is kept under lock and key
Panic took the place of nobler emotions
Killing grounds where trust had been lost
Can’t see no matter how low the plane flies
Where rabbits used to run
Blood against the green of the grass
Sun that is setting as the air begins to cool
When people are doing God’s work, it’s only God that has time to listen.
That was the day no one had time
to listen
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