On the Mend

The mice tell bedtime stories Lullabies turned blue A crib song for the baby who has figured out the ruse I travelled half way 'round the world to tell a story with no end The dirt under a nation Forsaken, on the mend I could say that for a moment it all made perfect sense No one holding posture, nothing heaven-sent Hold the hand that leads you, there's no god here to believe What matters moves around us in the air we breathe There's nowhere left to sit It's the dirt ground or a broke-down bench Four walls and a roof - they say the house that Jesus built A child knows the kindness of a woman at her end In song she found salvation Forsaken, on the mend I could say that for a moment it all made perfect sense No unholy posture, nothing heaven-sent Hold the hand that leads you, there's no god here to believe What matters moves around us in the air we breathe What matters moves around us in the air we breathe In the air we breathe