A Sunday afternoon waltz

There, somewhere is the divine in the shallows of the mill.
There, somewhere is the resonance in the song of the mill.
I stand and shoulder.
Oh, I stand and shout.
And bend the fork in the road so that only I can see.
And tend the storm in my heart so only I can dream.

There, somewhere are the callous in the mountains and the hills.
There, somewhere are the jealous in the drumbeats and fills.
I stand and shoulder.
Oh, I watch the crowd.
And send the lonely back on their way so only I am me.
And send the holy back on their way so only I am me.

Here, somewhere is the divine in the gallows of my soul.
Here, somewhere is the majesty in the truths of our time.
We stand as we should,
Oh, we stand and shout.
And lift the 'morrow with the weight of tears yet to come.
And blend the hate with sorrow of fears to come, fears to come.

Here, somewhere is the last of the temptations, more or less faith.
Here, somewhere, deep inside, is the divine in my gait.
Oh, I stand and shoulder.
Oh, I stand and shout.
Oh, I dream.
Oh, I scream.
And sleep in the moments leading up to the end of time.
And sleep in the consciousness ending in time, three quarter time.