Born in Babylon
You were born a slave
You fail to see your shackles and chains
Your eyes are under the weight of a heavy veil
Without His glorious perception
You are an unwitting Son of Hell
The Beast rides the waters of liberty
He goes forth on his snarling steed
Ravaging and spoiling the land of the free
Moving forth on the backs of those in need
The Great Beast, proud and boastful
Shivering in arrogant jest
Raping and pillaging
The blind sheep
Delighting in their unrest
Don’t you see, Mr. Deadman?
That you are a slave?
Don’t you see before your eyes the heavy veil?
Shake loose your bonds!
Son of Babylon!
Son of Hell!
Set your eyes on the Most High!
Rid yourself from their lies!
Lambs with Steel Wool
Take heed little lamb
be ready for death
take no thought of what you will say
when you stand before tyrants
in the days when they gather
to fight against the Lord and his anointed
These weaving spiders
gather in the four corners
spinning their web of deceit
throughout the earth
but we must not hold to fear
we must be found washing our robes
washing them white
in the blood of the Lamb
let courage and zeal
be woven into your vesture
may mercy and grace follow you
until the end
cloak thyself with wisdom
and loving-kindness
for you will escape
the day of Wrath
while the wicked perish
Rise Up O Sleeping Ones
Rise Up O Sleeping Ones!
Listen to the boots on the ground
marching in the distance
beating, pounding rock and sand,
dirt and grass
Will you wait in your slumber?
with eyes wide shut?
with clouds about your head?
Get you up O sleeping ones!
Listen to the wars and rumors of wars
the buzzing of pestilence
the cries of the diseased
the creeping of plague
will you turn a deaf ear?
will you sit in blindness?
with darkness swallowing your being?
Take up the armour, O weak Men!
Revolution is calling
with a deep blast of Horns
the beating of boots
are growing louder
the smell of war
hangs heavy in the air
He is building his army
Rise up O sleeping ones!
Rise from your damnable slumber!
She Imitates Art
Are you a page on eternity’s easel?
I have not a doubt
You are of the hidden elements
known only in the mind of the Creator
A heart of flesh
A love as pure as gold
You are made of the physical elements
only perfected by the Creator’s worthy hands
Your golden hair falls around your rose pedal face
soft as swaying fields of grain
in the ease and embrace of the summer wind
When I behold such a display
I am overcome with thoughts
of the diamond crusted sky
the green rivers of rolling hills
the hazy blue morning of dawns kiss
I am set ablaze with passion
for the subtle joy of art
You, as well as I, and all mankind
are works of the Master’s craft
Each fearfully and wonderfully made
You are but one piece
of His living collage
but by far my favorite piece
of His masterful work
The Wonder of Her
Can a man brush the stars with his hand?
Embrace the soft, flowing wind?
Can he breathe the rain scented air for eternity?
Inhaling, exhaling, cleansing, never to end?
Man can dream dreams
Long for such enigmatic scenes
but a love as rare as my love
far surpasses such things
She warms my heart with words I’ve desired to hear
She is gentle and fair, graceful as a dove
humble as the deer.
Her words release my heart
dispelling my fear.
Words inspired from above
Words I have long needed to hear.
Can a man brush the stars with his hand?
Embrace the soft, flowing wind?
Can he breathe the rain scented air for eternity?
Inhaling, exhaling, cleansing, never to end?
No, These things are but dreams
Fantasies far from mortal demands
But my love is here and true
more priceless than such things
resting in my hands.
