Something in the way: August 2003

Sunday, August 17

Hands in the air
by The Waiting

If I raise my hands just to lift the shade
Will I reveal a sky heavy and gray?
Will last night be a memory sweetly fading?
How I hate a morning starting out this way
On these lonely, raging mornings I would whip You if I could
But You're on the mighty side of strong
And the perfect side of good
If I raise my hands will You grab my by the wrists
And will You try to pull me from the fray?
And even if my fingers join together into fists
Will You hold me firmly anyway?
Because I would try to escape You but for everyday I'm sure
That You're on the huge side of big
And the holy side of pure
Okay
Hear what I say
As I raise my hands in surrender today
Okay
Here I will stay
Hands in the air, singing have Thine own way
If I raise my hands so weak and thin and frail
Will You reveal the light of mercy in Your eyes?
If I cry to You faintly will my feeble whisper fail?
Or will it find its way to a reply?
Because, now that I'm exhausted I think I'm ready to admit
That I have spent all my resistance on someone I can't resist
Light from my window sill, make my way to the door
I hang my head and still, I know you're wanting more
Over the threshold now, I move across the yard
All that my will allows, my every step is hard
Now in the garden I carve out six feet of space
There make my will comply, lie down upon my face
Been toe to toe too long, I'm tired of fighting You
I see You were too strong 'cause I am black and blue
But now I understand a loser's due to win
How every dying man is sure to rise again
So I raise my left hand one, I raise my right hand two
Under the morning sun, my spirit cries to You
Okay
Hear what I say
As I raise my hands in surrender today
Right here
Under the sun
Hands in the air, saying Thy will be done
I'm here
Under the sun
Hands in the air, singing Thy will be done Okay
Here I will stay
Hands in the air, singing have Thine own way
Have Thine own way
Have Thine own way

posted by Deirdre at 7:28 PM

Thursday, August 14

Concussion
I was tired of hypocrites
who tear down walls and build up fences
But I see now it was only me,
who, tearing down real people, became fake
I must have lost myself in the wake of fleeing from reality,
just then I found my temper
and never did I give it away
I've always taken innocent targets
I'm sick of how I study to perfect my arguments
I forget now just how satisfied
I was before reclaiming pride from you
I'm stuck up though I am unconscious
don't make goodbye out of my concussion
please wait here till I wake up
I'm truly sorry that I messed up
don't leave me here to lose myself again

posted by Deirdre at 10:48 PM

Thursday, August 7

Premature
Without permission to stay,
it's useless demanding anyway.
Resounding in the studio
are thoughts of questioning God.
But why say a thing, this isn't up to me.
So I recline here undone on the inside.
Pretending to believe the impossible,
I look up to pictures on the wall.
When my eyes find everyone but me,
I trace the scissored lines in disbelief.
The story of my life!
I'm only there for awhile
and scorned for all forced absence
though not a single time has by my decision.

I just put down my guitar
finally I've felt the entire weight of this curse
and it's all too much to take
but I can't break down in someone else's house
forget it all I'm getting out
but not cause it's my choice.
Someone else keeps pulling me away
though I'd rather stay.

posted by Deirdre at 12:48 AM