Sunday Mass, I'll take a pass
and **** it up amongst the leaves.
I'll ask a fellow parishioner,
all he knows before he leaves.
Find out, "who read the gospel?"
The readings, telling right from wrong.
I'll find a worthy tale to tell,
and all the hymns and all the songs.
Those songs about salvation,
(salivating for the public house),
I'll burn a candle in my mind
then dampen it, with all my doubt.
Then I'll seek out knowledge,
someone with something real to say.
I'll wonder bout those Gospels,
and everything they fail to say.


.

A spirit in the headlights,
a mist that formed into a light.
It spun itself in spirals,
distorting everything in sight.
Under an old and trodden bridge
where lockgates rise and fall.
It burnt my eyes and taught my soul,
all it needs to know.
It left me with a whisper and a melody in time.
It spoke of secrets hidden from the greedy hands of men.
Men who value power, and a need to make one bow.
It left me with the answer,
but wouldn't tell me how.
"Everything you've ever known is true and then its not."
"Its all about the angles and the moments you forgot."
"Its all about the melody, the melody in time................"
It spun itself in spirals.....
then disappeared into the night.
It spun itself in spirals,
distorting everything in sight.

The Devil in the ditch and nettles,
a twisted soul that couldn't settle,
on a golden gilded cloud,
could not bring himself to bow.
Lurking in the darkest shadows,
in the corners of your mind.
Pulls a veil over your face,
ties your tongue and leaves you blind.
Feeding on unfiltered light,
lost in the prisms of your eyes.
Hiding in the dark of night,
waiting to be exorcised.
Waiting for a chance to try.

A love bound by the centuries,
is stirring on the lawn.
Scarlet, Crimson, Red and Green,
awoken with the dawn.

The passion in the roses,
that brings the beauty through.
Is a passion we should try to find,
inside me and you..

The sunlight in the morning,
that brings a brand new day.
Is something that we can embrace
if we try to find a way.

The passion in the roses
that brings the beauty through
Is a passion we should try to find
inside me and you..

And when the Sun is falling,
lower in the blood red sky.
The thorns you once had in your side,
are like a crown you wear with pride.

The passion in the roses,
that brings the beauty through.
Is a passion we should try to find
inside me and you..

The passion in the roses
and all thats truely true.
That Passion that was always there
is inside me and you.

The Calm amongst the lillies,
made all those old fears seem so silly.
Shun light into the darkened cave,
like flowers on a strangers grave.
The light it flooded through in waves,
fractured by the morning haze.
Stillness lying in the grass
with the minutes, hours pass.
Staring at a moving cloud
and all the silence seems so load,
away from all those bustling crowds,
away from all those bustling crowds.

Sharing books, sharing stories,
getting the read, each on each other.
Everybody has their tales
that we share, share with each other
Epic yarns, so close to you,
may seem dull to another.
But tales are made,
made to be told.
They bring us close together.

What about those stories lost,
blown past with last years weather,
There's stories in the skies above.
There's stories in the heather.

We search in life, to find a way
a way to make it better.
We search and find a way to share
that brings us all together.
A way to shine amongst the grime
with all our words and letters.
Words that carry all we know
are lighter than a feather.

What about those stories lost,
blown past with last years weather.
There's stories in the skies above.
There's stories in the heather.