|
Stained-glass and the choir sing out that strong and ceaseless chorus here. |
|
So sweet the voices, sweep like leaves into the street. |
|
On Eastern, a celebration carried on for |
|
God and hope and refuge |
|
To keep each other, life; give shelter from the storm. |
|
And keep warm. |
|
The congregation gathers outside in the parking lot, each service done |
|
They keep the old hymn rolling on and on and |
|
I see the scene in color each day driving out to |
|
Eastown, That old abandoned church and have |
|
I gone the same sad way? |
|
Have I gone the same sad way? |
|
Through the sixties flourished and the seventies in flux. |
|
The eighties fluctuate each year unclear of when the money would dry up. |
|
And when the nineties violent crime and rising unemployment rates came by |
|
That parking lot grew dim and thin of sinners and saints |
|
Until the voices, unceasing, slowly faded to black |
|
Until the weeds stormed the concrete from unattended cracks. |
|
It had to know, had to feel that glory never coming back, |
|
Like I could feel it when the passion left, the last of what |
|
I had, It had to know like |
|
I knew. And |
|
I can't find it still. |
|
Might not ever. |
|
Ten years now standing vacant. |
|
Ten years on empty, maybe more. |
|
Once held the faith of hundreds, |
|
Soon one more cell phone store. |
|
For years they gathered here |
|
Inside the building sound and true |
|
To sing their praises to a god that gave them hope |
|
To carry on, to carry through. |
|
So, I've been thinking about that, |
|
Sometimes go slow when |
|
I drive by, |
|
How a home of stone and a house so holy |
|
Grows so empty over time. |
|
What gave those people purpose |
|
Past death approaching constantly |
|
Now left to crumble slowly, |
|
Now left to wither with the weeds. |
|
Now left to ice and vandals, |
|
The advent candles long since gone, |
|
The old foundation shifting hard, |
|
The concrete overgrown, but |
|
That stained-glass window sits untouched amongst the brickwork worn, |
|
A symbol of the beauty only perfect at that moment we were born. |
|
And just the other day |
|
I swear I saw a man there |
|
Pulling weeds out of the concrete, sweeping up and patching cracks, |
|
I saw him lift a rag to wash the years of filth from off those windows. |
|
Made me wonder if there's anyone like that for you and me and |
|
Anybody else who broke and lost hope. |
