Man and God and Grace

I'm looking for the wind with his head down

Praying for a cause to cease his

I'm wondering if it's true that every man can come anew

I'm stumbling out against the wind

There's reason for the song the birds are singing

There's reason for the men who shoot to kill

But there's no reason for a man who'd rather die than come again

How I wish to sing their sovereign tune

As I'm waking the room snaps and scratches;

The light shines a glow upon my sheets

Now I wake with a regret heavy as these tired eyes

Creaking like these lonesome bones

I'm looking for the verse sung by man and god and grace

And I'm humbled by it's righteous song

Wondering where the hell I went wrong

I would scurry up the stairs about a moon ago

Now the floorboards just dream of what they've lost

They withhold their boyish sound; just a bitter silence now;

Just a plain night to waste away

Beneath the window, old and crooked, sits a crow

Whose mouth doesn't open, doesn't close

And he waits for a clue, for a sign, or for a close

I sit beneath my window too

As I'm leaving I'll go looking for my own:

For the old man, for the sign, for the close

For I'm a coward little kid who couldn't stand to watch him go

Now I'll pay my dues in time

I'm looking for the verse sung by man and god and grace

And I hope to go one day to sing along

To reverse my own awful song