Untitled Document

It was like being a pavement stone, together with many others yet on my own.
For we all were in rows. Waiting, waiting, noncommunicating.
Like waiting in the summer for the snow. Like waiting in the desert for the river to flow.
You know you can beat the water with a fin, with a hammer you can beat that tin.
With Yeshua you can beat sin. But can you beat THE SYSTEM?

I remember thinking - I'm starting to decay, when would be served, and on our way?
Or would we stand all day? Waiting, waiting, anticipating.
Like wanting a coat from a possum. Like wanting an apple from a lovely blossom.
Yes we can replace the bulb that is broken, replace quiet by being outspoken.
Replace money with that special token. But can you replace THE SYSTEM?

I felt just like a still standing tree, because I was there from before seven,
To all the way past eleven. Waiting, waiting, comtemplating.
Like waiting for the time to be killed. Like waiting for the desire to be completely -fulfilled.
You know you can change the many for the few, You can change that old lie for what's true.
Change that red for the colour blue, but can you change THE SYSTEM?

Lyrics by Davyd Homan

Journalist goes out into the field to see what news the crop will yield today.
Pad in hand he holds his pencil tight but will he write unto the left or to the right? To the right.
Will he deceive us today?
Or will he just please us today? Today.

Paparazzi goes into the park taking pictures he'll hatch in the dark far away.
Lens attached he has his focus clear but is he zooming in on you or just your tear? Your tear.
Will he bereave us today?
Or will he just please us today? Today.

Sells like umbrellas in the rain. Not a detail missing of the pain. Hey hey!
Are there avenues to re-explore? Is the public crying out for more? Yes more.

Under the balcony I sang her my song.
Next to the moonlit stream I strummed as she strolled along.
Yes, thought trickled through my head, like water down a stream of how love evaded me, evaded me.
Where the willows weep I weep, and like a sheep my heart bleats for love,
love, love, love.

Beautiful lovely roses now withered in my hand.
Towards love I'm drawn by hope yet now its just a single strand.
Yes love she has surely gone she's left like a leaf floating down this quiet stream, down this quiet stream.
Where the willows weep I weep and like a sheep my heart bleats for love,
love, love, love.

I saw religion had tied freedom from his shaven head to his toes.
Then I heard freedom and he spoke saying his life was about to go.
Then I heard someone shout "JOY be upon you" but I think it slipped off.
In that place I heard no laughter only a cough.
Why the bells, the smells and and what's that thing?
No drums sounded out people seemed to be - mourning.

I think religion's like paper work that doesn't have to be done.
Who puts a bandage on a bandage when there's no cut on the thumb.
Why give glory to the poor man wearing something like a dress?
You know the one that thinks he has power to bless.
Why's he carrying that great big shepherd's crook? I wish from his sheep he would
unhook.

I think Pentecostals broke out with G-d by breaking free from their chains.
In flowed the spirit but so sadly out leaked fluid mixed with their brains.
Yet they're surely riding on the crest of G-d's giant moving wave.
Believing that he wants to speak wants to heal, to save.
People let's throw away religion that's like a yolk.
Strapped around our neck and then be FREE.

Lyrics by Davyd Homan