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 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-
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/DqXa 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. 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 fill your
lungs. Come and fill your lungs. There's so much
hope buried underneath tragedy, its 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, its the same shade
as concrete. Let the flood swell.