Song for St. Michael

Written by Ren Michael

I’ve long walked these streets ‘neath the stung-out dawn of a delta may
My hand bleeds, I breathe, sun reigns over me
I hear your voice call out over every stake you claim, your sacred ground
For there ain’t no rest for the wicked hand, when the man comes to town

Preach, breathe, foresee; I say, beware the rising flood
Reach for the mountains high, we bleed the same blood
As you sing all the songs you’ve learned, a fire burns in the summer night
If you think you’ll stay warm through the coming storm, you ought to look into my eyes

As you stare into sunlight and search for your brand-new day
As you feel the darkness rise with every falling drop of rain
As you look for home down every road, you know you’ve got no place to go
As you’re left to roam and your blood run cold, do you feel you stand alone?

I’ve walked all seven hallways ordained in your own blood
Blade cuts, I feel the wounds in the light of your mighty sun
I hear fate croon as the train’s last whistle blows
I see my own face upon stain-glass crystal windows

Do you smile in the darkness behind your ancient oak doors?
As we cling to the fallen rain upon your cobblestone floors?
You claim to know every soul behind your enemy lines
So come down below and stand alone in the shadows of our design…

On the outskirts of Rome, from paradise we fell
Banished here, forever feared, man you know the story well
Wave your Sunday palms for all who walk these empty streets
For all the burned who turn on things they cannot see

I asked a nameless face, a stranger, “What do you believe?”
He smiled, replied “I believe in you and I believe in me.”
Deep in the fire, as the flames grow higher, from now until the end
He takes Man as His brother, and remains His faithful friend.

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