Waiting

My Pride

Waiting


I think I smell the sunset 
Think I feel the close of day 
Clean shaven correspondents 
Are all crowded at the gate 
Smell the oil from their torches 
Their voices growing more irate 
Shepherds' staves are crooked 
Leading every crooked way 
All the sheep block their doors 
They're pulling down their shades 
The faithful looking in their mirrors 
The fateful growing old and gray 

But I look at You 
Your eyes are clear and bright 
I see your face 
It's an amazing sight 
Your glory, Lord 
Is still a burning light 
The light that all our faithless hands 
Could never dim 

Think I feel the sunset 
Think I smell the death of day 
People laughing at a funeral 
People dancing at a wake 
And all the seasons blend together 
This birds loosing feathers everyday 

And everybody's tired and scared 
And begging unbelief 
But You have yet to break a sweat 
No You're not afraid 
You're not afraid 
You're not afraid 

Think I feel the sunset 
Think I feel the close of day 
Shepherds' staves are crooked 
Leading every crooked way 
People laughing at a funeral 
And people dancing at a wake