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Stations

 

 

Many are the men who have gone off to war

Many are the women who have wanted more

And the princes who get their feet through the door without trying

 

Many are the ones who will turn in defeat

With bones in their saddles and burs in their feet

When you sit for a spell in that terrible seat you start dying

 

Many are the ones with that look in their eyes

But the loosening and binding of spiritual ties

Has taken a backseat to Pulitzer prize-winning writing

 

We go on and we struggle to understand

Why we can’t get to do what he or she can

And why all those people in whatchacallit-stan are all fighting

 

Many are the people who live with no homes

And many many more who feel alone

And we might all get sick from our cellular phones but we’re smiling

 

Many folks don’t know they’re possessed of a rage

It’s the blindness of this here particular age

Extending the bird through the bars of the cages they’re driving

 

The angel stands guard with his terrible sword

Extending it over the ruinous horde

Well the garden is empty except for the Lord in his glory

 

So we’ll build it to heaven till the heavens descend

And our tongues are confused so we’ll nod and pretend

That paradise still waits at the end of the story

-Philadelphia 2007

Words and music by Devin Greenwood © 2011 Secret Piney Music