Well your Sunday dress ain't too much for armor
Oh for me my mother's son
To save me from a wretched father
Or the sweet slip of this silent tongue
On my knees praying for water
Holy city fall to me
Oh and wash the face of this burning brother
Oh and bury me in mercy deep
Oh and I may worry
Oh and I may sleep
Oh and I may see war in disbelief
May I never worry
May I never sleep
May I never see the hour of disbelief
Will you write these wrongs if this shall be
Oh and I may shed blood but please pray for me
And if I rise from these flames in the midst of defeat
Will you mend these wings that are flying me
Oh and I may worry
Oh and I may sleep
Oh and I may see war in disbelief
May I never worry
May I never sleep
May I never see the hour of disbelief
Will you write these wrongs if this shall be
Will you mend these wings that are flying me
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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