Bridge · Concrete · Sky

Bury the hatchet

In Your corner I am good, in Your corner I rest in day.
I have always answered to Your calling with hurry,
I have always known ahead of time You will be bread.
In Your corner I am good, in Your corner I found the way.

The passing of the seasons does not matter anymore,
The black is white, the right is wrong – fugitive power
In the hands of men – the earth spins, and turns frantically.
We have raised a world of golden towers with no doors.

You Who send rain over deserts, and troubled waters,
You Who touch everything with the fingers of mercy,
Send forth Your armies of angels to bury the hatchet,
And bring springtime in our fortress, and in our lens.


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