1. |
God of the Mud
02:51
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God got down in the mud with us.
It’s strange; we didn’t know who he was.
Came from the heavens where he sat upon a throne.
He met a fisherman and called him for his own.
We all tripped and fell when we were learning how to walk,
and some stayed down, but some arose, and turned around to mock.
And so we taught each other what it means to live in shame,
but God stayed in the mud and called us each by our own name,
by our true name.
What do you think about this dirt-made Lord?
Came to teach us how to make a plowshare from a sword.
We watched him from afar, but his instructions we ignored.
But God stayed in the mud so he could see the mud restored.
Eve died with the apple clutched up tight against her breast.
And the agony of Luther—had he done what was best?
And finally, our own shame—all we’ve built has turned to dust.
But God stayed in the mud and made a life down there with us.
God stayed in the mud and made a life down there with us.
God stayed in the mud and made a life down there with us.
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2. |
Murphy, ID
04:28
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There’s a road leads south from Boise
driving down into the quiet.
On the night before the time change,
let us sit out here awake
and start a fire in the canyon,
break the silence with a song.
Ain’t the beauty of the land strange?
Can you feel enough to make?
Brother, are you satisfied?
Brother, soak the glory in. Oh
pain will come, will kill our pride, so
bless the struggle once again.
Are we all just at the mercy of our Maker
in the ark or in the flood zone
or the canyon
where the river cut a path?
Oh, may we all be at the mercy of our Maker
in the throne room
if the canyon is the flood zone
or if he spares us all his wrath.
Brother, are you satisfied?
Brother, soak the glory in. Oh
pain will come, will kill our pride, so
bless the struggle once again.
Sit with me, brother, at the water’s edge.
The angel will come to trouble it again.
He’ll see through my fine speech and know that I’m a wretch.
He’ll see through my good deeds to my endeavor’s sin.
But when the angel came,
he ordered me away:
“The healing waters are not for you.
Go lie down with the lame
and to the broken say:
‘The healing waters are all for you.’”
Brother, don’t be satisfied.
Brother, soak the glory in. Oh
God has come to kill our pride, so
bless the struggle once again.
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3. |
Killing Time
03:08
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Come on away, my love, my love.
We’ve got some time, some time to kill.
Life could be long or short;
all depends on if you will
spend your killing time killing time.
Not long to wait, my love, my love.
We can just sit and watch the wind.
It moves the clouds above,
brings tomorrow’s rainstorm in.
It’s a sign, love, a sign, if you want a sign.
Shall we frustrate our love, my love?
The axe is buried in the tree.
What will be left of us?
I was waiting quietly
for you to see a sign, see a sign.
So come away with me.
I only want you.
So come away with me.
I only want you.
Oh, come away with me.
I only want you.
But you’re killing time, killing time.
But you’re killing time, and it was mine.
I slew another love, my love,
then fled the bayou for the hills.
No guiding star above,
add it to your list of kills,
so I’ll be driving blind in search of mine.
Love is pain and pain is love, my love.
And letting go of love is pain.
When you walked away, I shoved
a needle right into my vein—
a loneliness defined by killing time.
So get away from me.
I never knew you.
Get away from me.
I never knew you.
Oh, get away from me.
I never knew you.
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4. |
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I have known uncertainty.
Stared at his shoes; he saw through me.
Painted black and white, my choices,
still somehow, he knew me.
Took him from my former home
when I left Tennessee.
How my new key entertained me,
entertaining, foundation-laying.
At the foot of the ridge and the bend in the river,
I laid down my old dreams, allowed them to wither.
Still they haunt me, I hear their voices—
siren songs, seduce me!
Built my kingdom, and my kingdom is uncertainty.
I have known uncertainty.
Homeward bound, he came a-charging after me.
They both said I love you and chose someone else, too—
Siren songs, undo me.
Is God in the road or did I miss the window of intimacy?
How my new key will enrage me,
devoid of an object of lust to assuage me.
At the foot of the ridge and the bend in the river,
I searched for my old dreams, they failed to deliver.
Six years on and in dissonant voices—
Siren songs, renew me!
Take me from my former home; I choose in uncertainty.
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5. |
Nietzsche
03:03
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I once thought every song was about you.
But if it turns out I was wrong, could it be true
that my childhood love, a God-forsaken you,
who was a bag of bones in a musty tomb,
is still a bag of bones in a musty tomb?
When Nietzsche said that God was dead,
I took no heed, no shelter.
But Andy cried, as orphans died,
“They had such need of shelter.”
They had such need of shelter.
I know the line; I’m far behind.
But is there any danger?
And Tamar wept as widows leapt
into the arms of strangers,
like the Christ child in a manger.
You were a bag of bones in a musty tomb.
Are you still a bag of bones in a musty tomb?
If I be your bride, then call my name
in a fruitless bout with my brother’s pain.
And greater men have been brought to shame
by a loss of hope; they slowly went insane.
And Job found God in a lover’s bet.
He’d not abandoned him just yet.
But when Christ himself hung upon a tree:
“My God, why have you forsaken me?”
So when they decree your treachery,
I’ll weep until they find me.
And perhaps we’ll see that gracefully,
your wings, to guard and blind me,
had sheltered us despite me.
You were a bag of bones in a musty tomb,
yet we have seen your hands, and we’ll see your face soon.
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6. |
The Monster
03:37
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I wrote out my anger.
I rode out my anger.
I scream it out when I’m alone;
I couldn’t tell you why.
Like a little fearful dog,
she’s bolder on the second floor.
I shut them out, retreated to my chair,
and tried to cry.
The mirror for my demons
ever lurking at the door.
There is a secret monster
in the deep part of the lake,
and all my friends, unwittingly,
have watched the monster grow.
It swallows all we’re building
in the chaos that we make,
and silently observes
all of the heartache that we sow.
In the deepest part of you,
an omen of what lies ahead.
We’re sinking down; what can we do?
And the monster must be fed.
And you’re the strongest trigger for the voices in my head.
I want to be your life vest, but you chose the deep instead.
And if I’m to be your life vest, then you might as well be dead.
I love you dear, I always have.
I tried to tell you why.
And it was you I thought of
when I wrote “The Night Before.”
But God confused the language
of the world, and you and I.
You’re screaming in your silence,
and you’re dying at your core.
I’ve told you I’m the broken one
resentfully at best.
But we rowed out together
to the deep part of the lake.
I made clear that we abandoned
Tennessee at your request,
then turned away for feeding
of the monster that we make.
In the deepest part of you,
an omen of what lies ahead.
We’re gonna drown; what can we do?
And the monster must be fed.
You’re still the strongest trigger for the voices in my head.
But you don't want me as your life vest, so you might as well be dead.
If we’re to be each other’s life vests, then we might as well be dead.
Just toss each other to the monster, ’cause we might as well be dead.
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7. |
The Weed's Lament
03:32
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Are you telling them, my lover,
how I’ve come to be so sad?
Up by the roots, we’re hanging.
Gardener’s gonna drop us on the burn pile,
and I’ll be glad.
Just for a minute, then I’ll come to
in the garbage that surrounds you
and scream your name.
Up by the roots again (this time they’re thin),
and all that I’ve accomplished is a deeper shame.
I found my way into the garden
with the scarecrows and the spiders
and the upturned soil.
And you were there, but you weren’t listening.
We were broken, we were kissing.
All of our plans were foiled.
We were naked,
naked and disposable,
tossed aside so flowers can grow
and blame us for the thorns they wear.
We’re all still dying, don’t they know?
Tell them all that we did what we could with what we had,
that we’re all still toiling somewhere.
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8. |
Cains
03:23
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As everybody’s breaking their vows,
let us wait by the river.
Climb up on the levee, then let us go down
to await the help of the giver.
Word from my brother in the darkness:
“Am I a Cain or an Abel?
The axe or the table?”
Brother, you are each and I am also.
It’s the only way of living—
wreaking havoc and forgiving, oh oh.
When we are the victim, and we did the crime,
his soldiers of grace come to seize us.
Fast asleep in the garden for yet one more time
while they march in looking for Jesus.
Word from my lover brought the darkness.
And I was Cain, killing Abel,
took the axe to the table.
Our feet cannot carry us to Eden.
Only walk the land we’re given;
search the dead to find the living, oh oh.
Don’t forget when we were younger,
waiting for the chance to find
a girl to satisfy our hunger.
Can’t accept that I was blind
to half the things that make us human.
We cannot redeem each other,
build a garden we can bloom in,
earn affection from our mother,
or keep any vow completely.
So let mercy come down to meet me
and hold me until the morning—
hope transforming the last forlorn thing.
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9. |
God of the Garden
05:13
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The God of the garden
invites you in.
His soil will muddy your feet
will muddy his floor.
The God of the garden,
knower of sin,
formed all of us from this same dust
he grew the lilies in.
I’ve thought myself away from you
with such alarming ease.
I’ve sown my seeds of discontent.
I’ve done just as I please.
The God of the garden
invites you in.
When shame and spite be our delight,
he makes us new again.
The God of the garden,
lover of men.
Though you may fear, you need not, dear—
the floor is dirt within.
Enough! The way of nature groans
to burn its bridges home,
but Christ has laid down in the gap.
He plants himself in loam.
So make of me an altar boy,
a child of the thinking man’s God.
Or make of me an artisan
to fashion him the graceful iron rod.
Oh, stay with us, Immanuel,
to illuminate the darker things below,
this God with us, immortal still,
this dirt-made Lord from whom all blessings flow.
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