what a silent house i live in,
what a cold night You endure,
and what a mercy in the morning
when i slip back through the door.
'cause when the dawn puts forth its daylight
it warms the secrecy denied;
our tether in the daytime
to never know my leave by night.
o God, what a divided home--
mothers of wood and fathers of stone--
the children pursue the wind
and give birth to more of it.
'cause You peered right through that lattice
and You saw our burning bed.
o what a whore i've made of Grace,
the child You gave when we were wed!
but She extends
unto the east and to the west.
she spreads her limbs,
and dances over creation's end.
and all of this is new:
all my debt and all my failure
all that's paid and all that's due.
all of this is new:
all my accomplishment and failure
all that's paid and all that's due.
and You could be with anyone else.
i'd make a better wife
to hell itself.
but You, You say
the sons take the place
of the curse above their heads.
i sowed Your blood
and reaped royalty instead.
