Redemption Song.

With each leaden step, with each cage of steel:
we hold our hearts in our chests, we receive bitter meals.
But, even with the anger swelling, and the past forthcoming right:
we must not allow the red to overcome our thinking or our sight,
see- for every fabled love song thought not to be true:
there is a core to every myth, one as false as the sky is blue.
And for every valued second, for every memory loved,
there is a virtue in the conviction that God lives up above;
and the stars are simply painted on the dark sky-canvas, black;
as if the devil made something beautiful while God had turned His back.
Like chips of ice made especially to meet our eyes,
or the flames Prometheus shared with us, but dyed a brilliant white.

Now, see, there are truthes and there are stories,
and which is which is for one to decide,
but if there's any indication of both existing within the same core:
it's how people hearing such things should react when a character dies.
The reaction is not always the same,
some will cry, but some will only blame.
Would you protest, or only deny the deep-seeded feelings?
I for one would question: why must anyone die for innocence?

There are allegories and morality stories and movies and books made by the minute
that point to God being an actual, truthful, omniscient sort of being;
but if this were true, tell me: where is his voice?

What happened to the bush that was burning?
What happened to the shepherd who was herding?
What happened to enforcing what was etched in stone?
I've strayed in my beliefs and judgments; and I have changed as I have grown.
I've grown for the better.
I still believe in the unimaginable, the limitless, the infinite, and invincible potential; in our opportunity.
I cannot be the only one that sees beyond politics, religion, and race;
this life should be about cooperating, not making the small things a giant fucking debate.
Let's show them what we think, let's celebrate our differences:
if it's not enough, we won't give up; we'll keep on with this.
Our train, our engine, our drive- so true;
what was once innocent and hopeful, what used to stand for red, white, and blue.

Now open your arms, and open your eyes,
set down your weapons, and put differences aside;
reach out and take the hands of the world:
of each man, woman, and child;
every little boy and girl.
Be sure that they are safe and sound,
that their hearts have yet to rest.
Because the most beautiful things on this planet
will come from inside their chests...
and our own.

We sing our songs-
of redemption, of forgiveness, of sorrow and of pain;
we forgive our words, we find the sun despite all the storm clouds and rain;
we have yet to falter, our generation, so proud to stand tall and so true.
We are the lovers, the fighters,
the soul of this nation:
beaten black and blue.

This is our song,
our redemption song;
we sing it loud and we sing it proud:
please, oh please, put your weapons down!
This is our praise,
our forgiving praise;
we sing it loud and we sing it together:
please, oh please, hope lives forever.
This is our hope.
This is our everlasting hope:
we wear it now, and we wear it proud;
please, dear God, please:
don't let it falter now!