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lyrics

Do you feel them: the Angels of the future, poised for war?
Hanging over the paralysed present. And everyone is
Stood on their toes, and setting their anxious jaws,
straining to see beyond the moving wall of time, the horizon

And the axis of our troubles are too many, intersecting
And the tribes are all alive, like rushing rivers, and they’re dancing
To the beating of the drums, around the fires and the wells
And the millions of liturgies retelling the world its story once again

And all the earth was silent and still for half an hour
And all the earth was clamouring like never it did before
And there were cracks down the sides of the towers, hear them creaking
And we carried on in doubtful living, staring through our secrets, unspeaking

And yes you will try crying and then laughing into space
To exorcise the unflexed shudder in your bodies, staring at the
Arc of the horizon to rest your tired eyes
As your ears come alive to the song of: “O dear goodness! God of Jesus Christ!”

And the world was asleep, and the world was alive
And the world was all still and it was dancing like mad fireflies
And the world did walk itself to the lapping threshold of the waves
And told her many her secrets, and breathed deep in quiet labour pains

Towers and walls
Trees and wolves
And home, o’er horizons many

Powers and laws
Beasts and soil
And home, in our bones, there buried

And kings gave solemn words from their thrones for the fires
to be bellowed into furnaces roaring brighter, seven times, till the
ropes binding Zoe shall burned from her two wrists
And all the kings will shake before her unrelenting fierceness

And kings gave solemn words from their thrones for the bricks to be
baked in raging ovens by the labour of those who would never
Climb the mighty towers that they built, but they would walk on stilts,
toward the promises of imported oils and oranges. Hallelujah.

And kings gave solemn words from their thrones for many bricks to build a
Wall to encircle the faithful as a refuge from the fall. Though
ever outside the towers, neither would they wander in the
wastes outside the walls. And they praised Jesus for their managed lives

And the names of the kings were the only that were spoken
Their names were the names above all names in the mouths of their
servants and their opponents, and impartial commentators
For there was no world besides the towers, walls and raging furnaces. No.

And the world was asleep, and the world was alive
And the world was all still and it was dancing like mad fireflies
And the world did walk itself to the lapping threshold of the waves
And told her many her secrets, and breathed deep in quiet labour pains

Towers and walls
Trees and wolves
And home, o’er horizons many

Powers and laws
Beasts and soil
And home, in our bones, there buried

Go wander, Dear Ones. Scatter thyselves like stones
These towers and these walls shall no longer be your homes, which your
ancestors build by the forced hands of those they colonised
A machine flexing rubber bands beheld with always flinching eyes

Go wander, Dear Ones. May dialects diverge
Go and find a margin in the forgotten places of the earth
And listen to her poetry - her unmanaged words
And pray deep in rivers of finitude and circles of rebirth

Go wander, Dear Ones. And this shall not be thy home
Obliged to live out futures of a past that’s not your own
Ever baking bricks for the coloniser’s towers
Ever within walls of the coloniser’s powers

Go wander, Dear Ones. Take off your dirty boots
Abandon now the building of their towers and grow roots
Find a little space, stay a while and trust this scene
Let your roots grow slow together, and re-imagine

And the world was asleep, and the world was alive
And the world was all still and it was dancing like mad fireflies
And the world did walk itself to the lapping threshold of the waves
And told her many her secrets, and breathed deep in quiet labour pains

Towers and walls
Trees and wolves
And home, o’er horizons many

Powers and laws
Beasts and soil
And home, in our bones, there buried

credits

from Apocalyptic Lockdown Blues: Part II, released September 4, 2020

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David Benjamin Blower Birmingham, UK

David Benjamin Blower: 6-string writer, poet, theologian and podcaster from Birmingham in the UK.

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