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