Down from Above

Your mother made you cry when she told you about the womb
And how people die
Watching over you when you were young
Smiling when you learned to crawl
You don’t know her at all
It’s a dirty job, but they’re very suave
Jesus high on wine weeping turpentine
Daddy’s voice like an intercom connected to a hidden room
Where yellow roses bloom
A sacred mountain near Peterborough where clouds paint a picture so calm
That they swallowed Mom
It’s a dirty job but they’re very suave
Jesus high on wine, weeping turpentine
What are they doing in there?
Have they got guns?
Make you run up and down the same hill
And they’ll break your will
Was it Christmas or Groundhog Day when your friends turned to shadows
And they dragged you away
Tell nobody that you’ve been here, don’t breathe a word that’s been said
(whispered) (Now there’s a scar)
upon your forehead
It’s a dirty job but they’re very suave
Jesus high on wine, weeping turpentine
What are they doing in there?
Have they got guns?
Whether Mount Pinatubo
Or the threat of God’s love
There’ll always be something that’s raining
Down from above.
Down from above.
Down from above.
Down from above…