Lyrics
Law & Scripture
Brother was the first of his kind Never sat down, never knew why and all these people coming inside would much rather acquiesce than kick, spit, and bite
But I'm gonna take back religion And I'm gonna take back your gods And I'm gonna burn down the courts and their conscience Unless justice is brought back into Law
Oh, that you found me, Free from man and scripture! Let me be cast out to the cold Give me back Franklin, Simone, and a cut-time culture Bring back the poetry and soul
There were hooks caught in his sides, Wouldn't talk to many but he could confide In the stars that would slowly unwind, 'Cross the sands of the cape they stray, listening, blind
But I'm gonna take back religion And I'm gonna take back your gods And I'm gonna burn down the courts and their conscience Unless justice is brought back into Law
Oh, that you found me, Free from man and scripture! Let me be cast out to the cold Give me back Franklin, Simone, and a cut-time culture Bring back the poetry and soul
And they said take care lest you misunderstand, For answers are best when they're found hand in hand When the choices we make, we don't make for ourselves Tame that fire inside, see it straight, sound the bells
Oh, that you found me, Free from man and scripture! Let me be cast out to the cold Give me back Franklin, Simone, and a cut-time culture Bring back the poetry and soul
Cause I lost my feeling, My sight, my touch, my hearing Don't let it be loveless anymore Let me see riot, let me see indignation Something that I saw once before
River Goes Up
And you brought out the dog/ And you felt sometimes like even that just wasn't enough/ Cause you felt you weren't moving, it was a secret you never gave air/ You'd take him for laps round the cul de sac/ Not quite getting anywhere/ And you pulled the trigger, when you found that it was time/ You'd be damned if that pup had to go in a strangers hands or in mine/ and the river goes up, and it will drag you under as it always does/ But not one of us is sold on these breaths and these bones and these histories we've been told / you say, "What's with the pity? When you all feel the same? Though some may tell their sorrows and others will take theirs to the grave,/ Yeah the most we can hope for is a living epitaph There's no triumph in this heart no place that goes and calls you back."/ But the river goes up, and it will drag you under as it always does