Rain of Sleet of Mourning will whip you through and through, but in the end of it all my friend, the grass keeps its morning dew
A poem about redemption. Happy Easter!
Rain of the sleet of mourning, will whip you through and through, But in the end of all my friend, The grass keeps its morning dew. And when the devil’s branding leaves your flesh, Charred and burnt and fused, Your signed and sigilled skin will win, A paltry prize for you. But acid rain is fraught with pain, And it all comes back to truth, That Jesus’ tears and years and years, Will purify you fools. With heavy hearts and silent souls, The priest apostle pew, Do ordain this selfish claim, As peccadillo of no use. Yet something deep inside the earth, Cries out “oh what’s the use! I’m trapped in hell with ne’er-do-wells, And demon's blood infused.” But all the whip and lashings, Remind you of what is true, The man above has the one you love And she cries “I love you.” “I love you.” “I love you.” “I love you.” Rain of sleet of mourning, Will whip you through and through, But in the end of it all my friend, The grass keeps its morning dew.