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Seven flowers on the hour cry |
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"We are groaning for the sons, |
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Of the One who makes us sing, |
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To reveal themselves this spring" |
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We just got outta jail today |
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And we all are here to say, |
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All us speaking for the band, |
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Airplane faith is in your hand |
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Through the fire and the river |
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But never ever all alone, |
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When He set the broken bone, |
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Hell the grave fell overthrown |
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On heals Kingdom Come |
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Comfort creme pours out |
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On the limb there is the children |
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Opposite of doormat |
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So tip your hat and wait on that |
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And that is that |
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The last kick |
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In the teeth |
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Is the first |
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Of the blocks |
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Set to song, |
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Hum along |
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And poisons peeved |
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Double minded me off |
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Of myself |
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Dust the eyes |
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Of my heart |
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That's on the shelf |
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We have all picked our noses tall, |
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Pitfalls and black holes have robbed, |
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But thanksgiving was our sail, |
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In three shakes of the lamb's tail |
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Seven flowers on the hour cry |
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"Balance seems to be the key, |
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Join into the famile, |
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Singing let us a.b.c." |
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They call me chief, they call me hoss |
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"You call me son, so I am son" |
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We live in two worlds, unseen and seen |
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"Kingdom squeaky clean, resting squeaky clean" |
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Join into the ships, when your mind is wild |
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"You call me child, so I am child" |
