May trigger some
A broken man can't see one more tomorrow.
Tears stream down the barrel of his gun.
Perhaps the bullet just might kill his sorrow;
at the very least, the man that he's become.
He grips the pistol, but then somhow he falters
Just before the gun can bring a violent end.
His toilet might as well have been an alter
as he confides in his long-lost, faithful friend:
Can You stay with me if only for a moment?
Just a little while and, I swear, I'll be just fine.
Hold me close and tell me about atonement,
I think it'll make more sense to me this time.
An old man gazes out across the morning.
He remembers when the bells of freedom rang.
But freedom fell not long after the warning
heard in every old folk song he'd ever sang.
Three days with no food; he just wants water.
Who can eat with the smell of hatred in the air?
He holds a crumpled picture of his daughter
And whispers soft a pleading, hopeless prayer:
Can You stay with me if only for a moment?
Just a little while and, I swear, I'll be just fine.
Hold me close and tell me about atonement,
I think it'll make more sense to me this time.
All my life, I've only known these troubles.
They empty every promise of good times.
Now I'm buried deep beneath this rubble;
reaching out with hands of written rhymes.
Tragedy has always been my shadow.
It follows me to tell me when I'm wrong.
Sometimes, I get tired from this long battle.
But it seems to put the ink in all my songs.
Can You stay with me if only for a moment?
Just a little while and, I swear, I'll be just fine.
Hold me close and tell me about atonement,
I think it'll make more sense to me this time.