Listen to the falling rain,
bruises we have made in vain,
stories from which we will turn and falter.
Distances have all drawn near
as love before us fought to clear
a sacrificial space upon the altar.
Our broken chains held end to end,
lamenting far off dreams of what could have been.
Sometimes hold on, sometimes let go.
When is when, only we know.
I want whatever way will let me love you.
Our future is a beam of light
singing out into the night.
When people truly see you, they must love you.
Our broken chains held end to end,
lamenting far off dreams of what could have been.
Stay with me on the evening of our culture.