The Chimes in the Early Morning

The chimes in the early morning,
Tunes of the church run wild like savages in the woods,
Slowly people awake from the newfound mourning,
To an unlikely hood,
Of ever breaking up the social system,
Followin’ the slave rhythm,
Always looking over my shoulder,
Breaking this god damned boulders,
Face to the tempting rivers,
We come of as soldiers,
We are more like saints with a fever.