GOD! THE COURAGE OF MY MEMORY (yes, i've memorized it all).

and what courage does this humility take, is it then?
Dammit Diana, GOD IS HERE-
she's still singing, DO YOU SEE IT?
SHE'S STILL SINGING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

yes, i've memorized it all: the courage of my memory.

Why burn poor and lonely under a bowl.
Under a lampshade or on the shelf
Beside the bed where at night
You lay turning like a door on it's hinges?
(First on your left side, then on your right side, then your left side again)
WHY BURN POOR AND LONELY?
Tell all the stones, we're gonna make a building.
We'll cut into shape & set into place or you'd rather be a window,
I'll gladly be the frame reflecting any kind of words.
We'll let in all the blame
(And ruin our reputation all the same)
Never mind out plan making,
We'll start living......anyway,
Aren't you unbearably sad?
Then why burn so poor and lonely?

We'll be like torches
we'll be like torches
We'll be torches together! torches together
well be like torches
we'll be like torches
With whatever respect, our tattered Dignity demands
Torches together, hand in hand

Why pluck one string - What good is just one note?
Oh, one string sounds fine i guess....We were once 'One Note',
We were lonely wheat quietly ground into grain
(What light and momentary pain!)
SO WHY THE SAFE DISTANCE, THIS CURIOUS LOOK?!
Why tear out single pages when you can throw away the book?
Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?
Strum the guitar!
strum the guitar!
strum the guitar!
With no beginning, with no end
Take down a guitar and strum the guitar
strum the the guitar if you're afraid,
And I'M afraid and EVERYONE'S afraid
And everyone knows it but

WE DON'T HAVE TO BE AFRAID ANYMORE

(i've got the joy, joy, joy-----)

and while this peace cries havoc in my soul

i am confused
the clock rings now ever too confident
tomorrow i will be naked and a child again
and i am afraid.

i am also convinced that there is nothing like abiding in the shadow of the almighty.
Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him.

what i'm speaking means more to me than how i say it

hot red clouds through the rear-view mirror give away Your presence far too well,
which is good,
because looking under
and inside
these dusty nooks and crannies
of my sin-
it is much harder to find You there.

odd how i can find and lose You in these siren songs, these fire nights,
this tempted seclusion,
the blessed isolation that i can make for myself if i just live a little softer

those guitar strings always speak so quietly, as does He,
but it is intriguing how much more beautiful your words do sound
if i must only take the time to listen closer.

Is Victory Ours (A Twelve Percent Royalty)

tell me how to erect a wall
teach me how to build a blockade

tell me how to ignite a flame
teach me how to begin a war

cause this road isn't walked by you alone
no this way won't be trod alone

a cry

none of it makes sense, if only i had a gold coin
for every time i want to give in and say
none of this makes any sense to me
He's ever present, i know this now
but it does not erase the quandry that absolutely nothing makes sense to me
so i'll just bathe in the suspension and
wait for another sodden pacification to hold me down