psalms alive

i am the nail that you can't strike

i am the spear that will run you through

and when the shots were falling we were sound asleep

and you filled your palms with dirty bombs

instead of hand grenades

i am teeth which cannot bite

i'll tear your garden up by the roots

and when the shots were falling we were sound asleep

and you filled your palms with dirty bombs

instead of hand grenades

hear the seven bells toll

ringing loud for you

coroners and vultures

cry out

gloria!

all across the valley

onward towards the sun

the two-bit prophet sways and

pull a piece from everyone

feel the heavy hoof-beats

pound across the land

the sin of our forefathers

lies within our clutching hands

what the planes pass over

hear it's call-to-arms

the golden drunk of morning

made me straight my bended knee