Holy Water

I'd rather choose to be

The storm outside

Cause you can control rage

But just not mine

And that's the missing piece

I've yet to find

It's not a weathered cliff

It's a stone too high

Head up soaring my

Hands are folded over

To form the creases

I call my own

Cupped and pouring my

Cup of holy water

Bow the necks of

The true believers

I'm not your enemy

I'm not your strife

Look past the crooked face

The worn out sigh

I make the misery

That I choose to fight

You take your own way

I'll take mine

Can't ignore it I'm

Blessed I'm sure it's over

We're good at grievance

But not at love

Drops of blood in my

Cup of holy water

Mother of martyrs

Santa Maria