Low Chariot

Sometimes I don't feel like the chariot
is ever going to swing this low
If I looked over Jordan, what would I see
Ten thousand angels after me
And the hounds all at my heels
The devil drives his deal
and points me to the noose
You cut me loose

Straw and sticks won't do for bricks
don't need a wolf to blow down my home
These boys don't need a man, another flash in the pan
they need a rock and not a rolling stone
The hourglass is cracked
Days I can't put back
point me to the grave
Could I just be your slave?

Kisses on my face like gold
Tears on my neck like silver
Apples fresh pressed and cold
in days of drought and hunger
tell me it's OK
"I never went away
I'd sooner sink the stars in the sea
You've got me"

Counsel to the cast away is like hard rain on dry clay
Streams all clouded up with silt
The message of the sage seems to squall more with age
until my soul is just a sump for guilt
The plowers on my back
celebrate each trophy track
The clouds have opened up
you share my cup

Kisses on my face like gold
Tears on my neck like silver
Apples fresh pressed and cold
in days of drought and hunger
tell me it's OK
"I never went away
I'd sooner sink the stars in the sea
You've got me"

Copyright Mitch Murphy 2009 (or thereabouts)