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A song I wrote for Resurrection Sunday in a grave yard in Scotland ten years ago. My wife and I recorded it on our third CD together (the whole disc can be purchased for the very reasonable price of $5.99 as a download on SoundClick: http//www.soun/... Happy Easter everyone!
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Lyrics
Rubble is destiny,
all that remains.
Worn down plaques
are rainsmoothed and stained.
There's no food for the worms,
just beggars and thieves
who sleep in the shadows;
"sacred to" they read.
It was doctor's daughters
who bought these stalls,
it was king's squires
who erected these walls;
it was general's sons who
knelt to grieve
and the priests' children
who didn't believe
in the resurrection.
In the resurrection morning,
the tomb's got to yield up its treasure.
Now, the killer was smiling,
with nerves made of stone.
He climbed the stairs
and the gallows groaned.
Like, when Cain slew Able,
he killed him with a stone
and all that remains
is the wind through your bones.
A quill from a buzzard
like, blood rites again.
So many twist in the wind
without a friend.
There was a river of flesh...
"Can these dry bones live?"
Ask the the king or a beggar
and the answer they'll give (chorus)
The guards closed the tomb,
sealed it with lead;
water and nails--
they were sure he was dead.
Joe drank his coffee
from the carpenter's cup.
Mary and martha
trembling showed up.
A chariot came flying
like wind through the wheat.
The tombs were then opened
and prophets hit the streets.
The sun turned to coal,
but nobody mourned.
In the Holy of Holies,
the curtain was torn (chorus)
In an ancient Scottish graveyard,
the rain's cold as ice
and all that I can think about
is Jesus Christ;
and the winds past the tombstones
just spiral and turn
like a Spirit who decides
who'll rise and who'll burn.
If you bury my body,
you'll find that I'm gone,
like an owl or the sparrow
out singing some song
because he's chipped away the stone,
broken out of prison:
"There's nobody here,
He is risen." (chorus)
Don't ask about the bell, John,
it tolls for thee,
floating from an urn and
finally free.
That's Satan on the gallows
and Death rolls the bones
and except for an apostle,
they're all alone.
But Tut and the pharoahs
are acting confused,
with Robert Johnson,
still playing the blues
because you can't book your passage now--
heaven got full--
and the lost are chained to the world
and they pull (chorus)
I saw Lazarus crying
because he was was free,
but the rich man was boiling
down in the sea.
Just a one-way ticket
will get you across,
a roadmap to heaven
nailed to a cross.
From an ancient Scottish graveyard,
rain cold as ice
and all that I can think about
is Jesus Christ.
He's chipped away the stone,
broken out of prison.
There's nobody here,
he is risen.
all that remains.
Worn down plaques
are rainsmoothed and stained.
There's no food for the worms,
just beggars and thieves
who sleep in the shadows;
"sacred to" they read.
It was doctor's daughters
who bought these stalls,
it was king's squires
who erected these walls;
it was general's sons who
knelt to grieve
and the priests' children
who didn't believe
in the resurrection.
In the resurrection morning,
the tomb's got to yield up its treasure.
Now, the killer was smiling,
with nerves made of stone.
He climbed the stairs
and the gallows groaned.
Like, when Cain slew Able,
he killed him with a stone
and all that remains
is the wind through your bones.
A quill from a buzzard
like, blood rites again.
So many twist in the wind
without a friend.
There was a river of flesh...
"Can these dry bones live?"
Ask the the king or a beggar
and the answer they'll give (chorus)
The guards closed the tomb,
sealed it with lead;
water and nails--
they were sure he was dead.
Joe drank his coffee
from the carpenter's cup.
Mary and martha
trembling showed up.
A chariot came flying
like wind through the wheat.
The tombs were then opened
and prophets hit the streets.
The sun turned to coal,
but nobody mourned.
In the Holy of Holies,
the curtain was torn (chorus)
In an ancient Scottish graveyard,
the rain's cold as ice
and all that I can think about
is Jesus Christ;
and the winds past the tombstones
just spiral and turn
like a Spirit who decides
who'll rise and who'll burn.
If you bury my body,
you'll find that I'm gone,
like an owl or the sparrow
out singing some song
because he's chipped away the stone,
broken out of prison:
"There's nobody here,
He is risen." (chorus)
Don't ask about the bell, John,
it tolls for thee,
floating from an urn and
finally free.
That's Satan on the gallows
and Death rolls the bones
and except for an apostle,
they're all alone.
But Tut and the pharoahs
are acting confused,
with Robert Johnson,
still playing the blues
because you can't book your passage now--
heaven got full--
and the lost are chained to the world
and they pull (chorus)
I saw Lazarus crying
because he was was free,
but the rich man was boiling
down in the sea.
Just a one-way ticket
will get you across,
a roadmap to heaven
nailed to a cross.
From an ancient Scottish graveyard,
rain cold as ice
and all that I can think about
is Jesus Christ.
He's chipped away the stone,
broken out of prison.
There's nobody here,
he is risen.
& Your Wife ,I'll comment tomorrow this is so strong . .
I would love to do something..something. . dreamin again but with a new insite . You just gave me so much inspiration & opened a New Musicdoor for Me : )
: ) : )
ThankYou Lord for Everything