Rhythmic and Metric

Going Home

Put down your spade that digs the hole
Where all your dreams have gone,
And drop the heavy handed blade
You bled your memories on.
Let go the voice that cried in vain
And burnt away your soul;
Come on, my brother, take my hand,
For we are going home.
Pick up the shards of broken love
That left you all alone;
Seek out the truth, deep in your heart,
The truth you’ve always known.
Break loose the rope that bound your strength
where fear has always grown;
Come on, my brother, take my hand,
For we are going home.
And all is love and all is light
upon our promised land,
For we can dream another world
That love will understand.
Together we can sow the seed
the prophecies have shown;
Come on, my brother, take my hand,
For we are going home.
And when our time is come and gone,
and fields are full and green,
Forever we will bless this land
where only love is seen;
And all is one where brothers stand
Where tender seeds have grown;
Come on, my brother, take my hand,
For we are going home
Come on, my brother, take my hand,
For we are going home.

ALSO READ | You Slew Your Soul

Photo by José León on Unsplash

Categories: Rhythmic and Metric

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