Monica Richards

The Hand Of Man

Monica Richards


Come the tides   We hear tell of the mortal season   Fed rife with rhyme and reason   Tainted with despair  

Kill-darkened skies   Painted black, so black with misery   Raining down with impunity  
Oh, the cross we've brought to bear  

In the treason fields   Where man again destroys what man built  
Man wears the weighted cloak of man's guilt   For the blind we must remind  

Raise your eyes   Behind a martyr's mask of supplication  
I find you guilty by association   Mute, somehow divine  

I Sing True   I can see right through you  

Thirst for truth   Spit out the lies inside and search for meaning  
The child in your hanging head lays bleeding   Another dream to drown  

Ignorance   Seek your knowledge in the volumes of dust  
Render all to ashes and rust   And child, bring that hammer down  

I sing true   I can see right through you  

These latter days   They bear eternal winter's coming frost  
And the death of innocence   In this dying age   we wander lost  

Deny the Hand of Man  

Celebrate   Wherever mercy falls drunk you'll find me  
In the gutter, ever in the company   Of angels, and of kings  

Millennium   All the memories will fade like twilight  
Take your place on either side of midnight   And sing, dear brother, sing  

I sing true   I can see right through you  
Right on cue   That face you wear betrays you