And I've gotta make my peace with God.
But power seems like it's religion.
Might be surprised, look what you've got—
Life livin' here, quit all that waiting.
Predicate on death and war.
Justify by so much virtue.
And I'm not sure there's a better life up there—
Where everybody looks like Jesus.
But everyone acts just like Caesar.
Down here, I do what ever pleases
You.
Ah, you
And me and he make three and I think—
God how great you are, how great you must be.
But I can't see you and I doubt you see me.
It's not that I think you don't exist,
It's that you're just so sorely missed.
And all these fools actin' like they speak for you.
Angels sing, in everything.
Angels sing, over everything.
The joy they bring—
Is it real?
And what are hopes for?
To raise those spirits up on high? And dash 'em down again?
To promise warmth and sunshine when the rain is feared?
Is this what hopes are for?
And what are hopes for?
Are we meant to lift this troubled gaze from the vain trivialities and sordid ways?
Is this what hopes are for?
And what I hope is for—the things that drag us down this way,
May we learn to let them go.
And may we always stay—in what our hopes are.
This is what hopes are for.
Railroad Song { words: Fillmore/Fillmore | music: MCG | c.2006 }
`
credits
from ... it might even could,
released November 1, 2006
Jamie Fillmore | Guitar, Voice, found cassette
Mike McCutcheon | Bass
Mark McCutcheon | Drums
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