He balances himself running on the wheel
either side is a fall hundreds of meters
Many rotations before death
God at the lever where the wool
is converted into a line
Round you run
watching us fall
January pines invalid and dry
you the irreplaceable ornaments
your words the closest
the closest
And in a world where sacred is forgotten daily
here you come a riff and melody to remind us all again
worthless being spun into gold by you
as you run the wheel to renew us
Like you said our currency is the same
even in the different shades of this foolish game
Big box churches couldn't give us one fruitful word
You gave us a plantation sentence and inspired a spark of god within
My heart thankful
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