Songs of Angels

from by Psalm

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Let the rage that burns within me rise to the stars, may they sing a new song for us. May they make an arrow to the heart, to the cords of injustice. Their dreams are young, their songs are very few.

Then with a fever burn the skies, may they burn a new road for us. Let the fire lead us through the night, may the light burn a hole in the darkness. Their words are some, their songs are very few.

You say you want songs of angels, but you won't weep anymore.

Revelation, a blind man sings. Perfection is found in simple things. We want life in our death, we've got smoke on our breath, and there's too much reality stored in our dreams. Young minds are scattered, shattered. It takes years to build them, a moment to break them. We beat them, we kill them, we recreate them. We dress them like fools and send them out dancing and tell them each step will make all the difference. Red-fire reflections in light-blue glass eyes. To get the prize, they wade through lies. The time flies. Their dreams have lost their innocence.


from Story, released November 25, 2010



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