And the angels left town, having better things to do.
They are not watching for those coming for me and you.
It’s dark even in the early morning, as winter comes.
In the distance we hear the gun fire beat like war drums.
A cross is a sword, blood shed is not redeemed by blood shed,
I have no gun, we can only run as The Holy come for our heads.
Our home, left to be plundered and broken, our one safe place.
We head into the woods, and I cannot wipe the tears from your face.
A promise of salvation and a paradise burns down the world for all.
Carrying a gun and cross, A flag and bible, the world is made to fall.
Promises that we for others, only one kind, not us left behind sinners.
They care not for anyone’s pain or brokenness, only for being winners.
A snow flake falls, and then another, and then a false whiteness covers us.
It all looks so pure and innocent and free, but from behind gunfire concuss.
Love your neighbhor is a pretty thought that adds up to exactly jack shit.
There is blood always dripping from the pages of sacred and holy writ.