Lament For the Last Days - Bruce Cockburn

    the crescent moon is rising slow
    swiftly blades in ice do grow
    on the branches star-bleached snow
    waits while time is passing

    outside the door the dancer whirls
    chiming bells and shining curls
    flying footsteps in the snow
    rhyme the rhythm of ruin

    beside the wall the beggars call
    "Man have mercy on us all"
    the night-bound choir inside chants on --
    a hymn to brick and pistols

    you can stumble, you can fall
    or you can make the nations crawl
    but when death comes in to call
    he don't care about it.

    oh, Satan take thy cup away
    for i'll not drink your wine today
    i'll reach for the chalice of light
    that stands on Jesus' table.



    Marco Giunco
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