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God cage the songbird |
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Before the feathers run brown |
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God bar the windows |
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That we may though hollow be sound |
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And this island shall be shackled to her waters |
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Here we vow never to change |
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Here we will stand at last for something |
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With no desire to pretend |
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Send up our prayers to gilded idols |
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Their names etched in heartwood of palm |
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And scatter the ashes of the contracts |
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Their freedom so hollow a song |
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God cage the songbird |
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Before the feathers run brown |
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God bar the windows |
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That we may though hollow be sound |
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Now the street lamp will be tethered to her station |
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As the poor man is tethered to the flesh |
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The wise man will be tethered to his wisdom |
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As the mother is tethered to her creche |
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Was your hunger your awareness of salvation |
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As your chances go slipping to the past |
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You're tortured by the changing of the seasons |
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And each grain of sand in the glass |
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God cage the songbird |
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Before the feathers run brown |
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God bar the windows |
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That we may though hollow be sound |
