When the fire was out
And you’d kick the doors in
And marched in and caught
Babies wailing on a tightrope
In this winter of dust
He held your hand and held a scythe
You were tougher than him
You were getting that grain
He said, “No matter what you grow, keep my hand, watch it sow”
We all catch falcons
We’ve all got meat on our hands
But he strokes their angry beaks
Speaks to them his sickly truths
And he sends them back into the sky
Saying take me far away
Then blast me down with fire and rain
Oh, take me far away
Then blast me down with fire and rain
Heaven has no wings itself
Heaven, heaven
Heaven has no wings itself
Heaven, heaven
Heaven has no wings itself
Heaven, heaven
Heaven has no wings itself
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