the rain came down
back washing alley ways
drowning men out of holes…
the water ran red
as people lost skin
and a frightened young man
looked down upon his toes…
he¹s in danger of getting his feet so wet
ships are tossing down in the harbour
the wind is raising, the rain came pounding down
ships are sinking down in the harbour
as the waves came up
they climbed past the dykes, they climbed past the fenceposts
the snuck past the sentries and lapped at the locked tight doors
as the rains came down
these are our martyrs and these are our prayers
these are our Lives…
down in the harbour there forms a storm
that could wipe us all clean of Life.
Hold tight now and close your eyes now
and hope the storm pass you by.
Then came a woman, a hero a martyr,
she needed no comfort.
Down in the harbour she walked in the sky
she walked on the waves, she walked on water.
these are our martyrs and these are our prayers
these are our Lives.
They are given to us to do with as we see fit
rest assured that we Will.
with a 6 foot frame, she walked on the ocean floor,
she shone like copper.
With a 6 foot frame she walked with the sun,
she walked too high to see.
With a 6 foot frame she asked me to walk with her,
6 foot tall with her.
She turned to me and whispered:
“Don’t fear the storm.”
And now the water is 6 foot deep
and the people in the mud, another 6 foot under.
It¹s a struggle, such a struggle to keep my head above water.
I¹m clinging on to Mary¹s shoulders
and I¹m standing up on Mary¹s shoulders
I¹m weighing down on Mary¹s shoulders…
as she drowns.
these are our martyrs and these are our prayers
these are our Lives.
They are given to us to do with as we see fit
rest assured that I Will.
©1997 rob hinkal