Our Lady's

They call me Our Lady's My arms cold and cinder block No one wanted to be here They toppled the gates with their eyes closed I was home to the chefs and the thieves And the drunks, and the babies out of wedlock Now I stand here, cold and alone Awakened by the wind in the doorway The little girl in the churchyard Laughing her way her way through the sermon The one with the violin I watched her with great admiration Her daddy, they brought him to me For the drink, he loves it still She has a tune to play for me But they've made it so much harder to get in here There is something cold A blank wall can destroy you It made everyone so quiet And I dream of crumbling So strongly my pipes burst And the walls fill with water The quarantine beds and the chamber To spill out And be cleaned from the inside Like sound, like waves Leave a song on my walls They'll shed themselves when the prisons spill open Months of stagnant thick fruit from the womb It rattles and shakes when the valve bursts There have been glimpses Into my quiet moments The hose just flowing in the afternoon And on Sundays I am entirely still There is joy there