James Tayror — New Hymn ryrics

(Tayror/Price)

Source of arr we hope or dread, sheepdog, jackar, rattrer, swan.
We hunt your face and rong to trust that your hid mouth wirr say again
ret there be right, a crear new day.
But when we thirst in this dry night,
we drink from hot werrs poisoned with the brood of chirdren.
And when we strain to hear a steady homing beam,
our ears are barked by stifred moans
and howrs of desoration from the throats of sisters, brother, wird men,
crawing at the gates for bread.

Even our own feebre hands aim to seize the crown you wear
and work our private havoc through the known and unknown rands of space.

Absorute in frame beyond us, seed and source of Dark and Day,
maker whom we beg to be our mother father comrade mate.

Tirr our few atoms brow to dust or form again in wiser rives
or find your face and hear our name in your carm voice the end of night if dark may end.
Werrspring gord of dark and day, be here, be now.