1. |
Come On In
03:57
|
|||
|
Come on in, we want you with us today. We know this place is sacred ‘cause you’re here. Come on in, and no matter how you pray, invite that Holy Mystery you hold dear, to be near and let’s begin, come on in. / So come on all you animals, and come on all our kin, and come on all our ancestors, and come on all our friends. Come on all you strangers, and you people of good will, and while we’re at it, all our enemies who will, you come on in... / Come on all you sages, arhats and mahatmas. Come on all you devas, Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. Come on saints and angels, and you prophets and you priests, and all you holy women, who never got the ink, you come on in… / And you who’ve been rejected by the faith to which you’re born, please know that you’re welcome here to celebrate or mourn. And you who’ve left all faith behind due to hypocrisy or greed, you’ll find that we’re disgusted too, you’ll find that we agree, so you come on in…
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
You, the Lord, are tangled up in my hair, like a crown. A crown of Truth, woven just for me. You make your branches blossom in me. And I shall never be without you... / This crown is not dry or dead, you live and blossom all across my head. Your fruit is ripe and whole, and dripping with salvation. And I shall never be without you...
|
||||
3. |
Fuckups and Sinners
04:07
|
|||
|
I’m not the man that I could be, and maybe not should be, but I’m not concerned. ‘Cause if I didn’t wander, well how could I ponder all that I’ve learned? And it doesn’t seem fair, but I don’t think God cares. Jesus ate dinner with fuckups and sinners, so I know I’m welcome there. / There’s not a man or a woman who holds my admiration who’s not a son of a bitch. Dionysus and Apollo are coupling in the hollow, and the alchemy’s rich. And it doesn’t seem fair, but I don’t think God gives a damn. Jesus ate dinner with fuckups and sinners, so I know I’m welcome there. / Well, he loved the sinner—he may even love the sin. Holiness ain’t ’bout what you shut out, no it’s ’bout what you let in. Well, he ate with the whore, and he ate with the traitor. He ate with the priest, and about a million masturbators. He ate with the hypocrites, and he ate with thieves...he’ll eat with me. / So pull up to the table, however you’re able. You don’t have to be useful, or mentally stable. There’s food for the hungry, and for those who thirst, well you guys go first. Jesus ate dinner with fuckups and sinners...so I know I’m welcome there.
|
||||
4. |
Falling from the Sky
04:17
|
|||
|
Ah, surprise! Did I catch you in an awkward moment? With your defenses down, where can you hide? And I know you hate me for the intrusion. And I smile. I see a lot of me looking into your eyes, still afraid of the dark, kind of, and can’t tell a soul—that would admit to your defeat, heaven forbid. / But there’s soft summer rain falling for the fallen, great drops of mercy like wine upon my lips, like bread upon my tongue, like mercy, mercy, mercy falling from the sky. / Love isn’t easy, it is much maligned and certainly by me. And I must face this fact and find forgiveness before thee, rather than smolder in this despair. / A familiar road. Thunderheads approaching, I feel my heart leap. Prosdexomai to eleos tou kuriou. The choices I’ve made for what I’ve become. / But there’s soft summer rain...
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Sister, get ready, the time is almost here. The sickness is coming, and you won’t know who to fear. Never any warning, maybe no warning’s best. So here’s a song of mourning for those living downwind in the West. / The factory is upriver, you know we bring good things to light. You ungrateful unforgivers, oh, you crybabies, cry. You’ve got more than one child, you’re not entirely bereft. You’ve got to count your blessings when you’re living downwind in the West. / So here’s a drink to your heartache, here’s a drink to your pain, and here’s a drink to your dear one’s health that will never come again. Here’s to the governor’s mansion and the senator’s gilded desk, and to political inaction for those living downwind in the West.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
I am the harlot at the side of the road, and I will lighten your heaviest load. Please do not listen to my keepers, they lie. They’ll rob you of pleasure and they won’t tell you why. / Don’t listen to them, they will tell you I’m good. But I’m not good, baby. I just did what I could. No, don’t listen to them, they will tell you I’m just. But I’m not just, baby. I just love you so much. / They’ll sell my body to anyone who will pay. But I’m not for sale, baby. I just give it away. I am the harlot, and if you seek my abode I will be waiting at the end of your road.
|
||||
7. |
Picture of You
05:19
|
|||
|
Someone gave me a picture of you and you had bangs and pointy fangs. And once I saw that picture of you it was burned into my brain. So I ran, ho-o, I ran... / I’ve been afraid of talking to you, all sword of flamey, all kinda shamey. I’ve been afraid of talking to you, so I talked to myself instead. And I ran, ho-o, I ran...away. / I showed someone my picture of you, and they were surprised with wide open eyes. They said, “Who told you God was like that? ’Cause I think you believed a lie.” And I’m tired, oh-ho, I’m so tired... / I threw away my old picture of you with shaking hands, I could barely stand. Then I found a picture that looks just like you and I knocked upon your door. And you ran, oh-ho, you ran to me...and you kissed me, oh how you kissed me, and you loved me, oh Jesus you loved me so good. / Now all I do is draw pictures of you because you, you’re beautiful...
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
We are the children of sorrow, those who know the cold. We are the ones familiar with the sting of regrets untold. We are the ones who have gone down to hell or been sent here just the same. Our company is the darkness and the cold wind whispers our names. (O but) Christ has come to the tombs, to make us warm. Christ has come to the tombs. / We are the ones who have suffered in silence many years. We watered our lands with the sweat of our hands and the rivers swell with our tears. We are the sons of betrayal, we are the daughters of pain. We are the ones who know what it’s like to be pawns in the politicians’ games. (O but) Christ has come to the tombs to dry our tears. Christ has come to the tombs. / We are those who have been lost, those who have gone astray. We are the ones who are locked outside of the gates that other men made. We are they who are unclean, we are the ones who are stained. We are the ones God has turned his face from, say the priests whom we could not obey. (O but) Christ has come to the tombs to lead us home. Christ has come to the tombs.
|
||||
9. |
Taste of Danger
04:30
|
|||
|
I’m still chasing cars, playing in the undertow, barking at the stars, wondering where you are. Better that I’ll never know. I still play with fire, hoping that I might get burned, toying with desire, teasing to the wire, thinking that I’ll never learn. Some things I earn, some things I steal. There’s an angel on my shoulder, but the devil’s got the wheel. I toe the line, but then I fall, ’cause heaven knows I like the taste of danger most of all. / Standing on a ledge, don’t you know I want to jump. Not that I would give my desire to live, I just wanna try it once. I just wanna know what it is to make the leap, how the wind would blow, how fast I could go, who would pray my soul to keep. Some things I earn, some things I steal... / It all comes down to this: There’s a million souls out there, dying for a wish, longing for a kiss, searching for someone to care. On any given day, you can hear their songs and cries, kneeling down to pray, wishing they could say they had never compromised. Some things I earn... / Some things I steal, most things I earn. The angel’s getting older, but the devil never learns. I toe the line, but then I fall, ’cause heaven knows I like the taste of danger most of all.
|
||||
10. |
I Want to be Changed
08:11
|
|||
|
I’m just waiting for that last day, angel blowin’ his horn, announcing to the world that it’s the day of the Lord. And I know when I hear it that I’m gonna be changed. And I…O Lord, I want to be changed. / There ain’t no sin I haven’t entertained, and I ain’t no stranger to the strangest of ways. But when I hear that trumpet I am gonna be changed, and I…O Lord, I want to be changed. / I want to be changed in the blink of an eye. I’m tired of pain, but I’m too scared to die. I want to be changed but don’t think that I can change…can change…unless you do it. / I’m a stubborn jackass and I’m set in my ways, a sedentary monument to my better days. I know I’m a criminal, and I know how to please. I know I’m a sinner and I’ve got the disease. But I know you’ve got the cure for this particular strain, so I…O Lord, I want to be changed. / I want to be changed in the blink of an eye, but I’m scared of the pain, and I don’t want to try. I want to be changed but don’t think that I can change…can change…unless you do it. / And I want you to do it. In my secret heart, I want you to do it. I want to be changed...
|
||||
John R. Mabry Hannacroix, New York
John R. Mabry lives with his wife and dogs in Hannacroix, NY. He is a writer, spiritual director, and director of the Interfaith spiritual direction certificate program at the Chaplaincy Institute.
www.johnrmabry.com
If you like John R. Mabry, you may also like:
The Edge of the Land
by Katie Spencer
Spencer's indie folk sophomore album was recorded live in the studio over the course of two days.
go to album
A Place Like Home
by Mr. Alec Bowman_Clarke
The new EP from Scottish songwriter Alec Bowman_Clarke goes deep, setting vulnerable lyrics to gentle melodies & stripped-back arrangements.
go to album
I Used To Be Sad & Then I Forgot
by Mr. Alec Bowman_Clarke
Alec Bowman perfectly captures the dark soil under the pastoral world of British folk with this collection of melancholy originals.
go to album
For She Who Hangs The Moon
by David Luximon
Expansive music that has the gentle hush of ambient and the insistent pulse of post-rock; enveloping and absorbing.
go to album
Michelle Stodart’s folk music captures hope in melancholy, addressing the transformational aspects of the most challenging times.
go to album
Stunningly beautiful songs wrought with pedal steel and nylon-string guitar that cast mesmerizing melodic shapes.
go to album
The Flowers That Bloom in Spring
by Kieran Kane & Rayna Gellert
Kieran Kane & Rayna Gellert offer up a stunning minimalist country record, conjuring huge emotions with little more than vocals & guitar.
go to album
