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In the Garden we burned the effigy
for all our lost days, our careless rivalries
The ashes crumbled, the earth cried out loud
before the rain washed the blank skies to the ground
“The Wind will take it away,” you said
But oh, my brother, my keeper, you’ve read
the book of beginnings, seen these people getting hurt
Sin lies at the door, your brother’s blood combs the dirt
But, there’s one thing that I’ll see
When you rise up against me;
although, I have no speed
the Mighty Wind will fight for me.
Your words like knives and my thoughts bled and torn
In that field where your hate was bred and born
The bread of angels falling now, so slow,
Buries me like the cold, white peace of snow
So I restored that which I did not steal
Before you crawled on your chest to bruise my heel
Cursed is the ground for your sake, all your days!
May the thorns and the thistles, now, become your maze
But there’s one thing that I’ll see
after you’ve turned to conquer me;
after I’ve seen the widowed tree
where the fruit and branches plea. . .
. . .You, a fugitive; you, running from the wind;
Your back turned, fleeing, a price on your skin
Oh, my brother, my keeper, you’ve fled
I’m as good to you now as I am dead.