Cold Wind

Small-minded places are ignorant and free,
you've got no worries, no day, no sweetie to see,
you've got a light room, a bed, a tower, grass...
you're not going to sit there and try to define me.

I will break out of this statist paradise, this insane asylum.

They whisper to me, "26 songs man, they help me break through the Wall,
26 songs, imagery that gives me something to help me stand tall."
I weep for those that think human wisdom is best...that's their Sheol.
They are comfortable in their Sheol...it's their sunny, bright future.

Until the sun explodes, sending them all running, screaming, pleading for help,
while their flesh slowly burns their souls to nothing, like a cigarette,
they just stamp it out...

This plays out in my head because I need it to.
I need God's word, words that sooth.
I'm a cold, empty, husk of a man
that's huddled up around the dying fire of the human race.

Cold wind comes from the mountain.

God will make them fall.