For all the spires this city raised
You’d think this is a holy place
The shadow of a cross descends
But it’s swallowed by the haze
You never sleep do you?
Always pouring smoke into
The atmosphere
What happens here stays with us till the grave

Wisdom cries out in the streets (Proverbs 1:20)

But the sirens are singing us to sleep
They’re so loud that I can’t think
I hear voices but I just can’t tell
And when we’re dead, the city prevails

Countless walk the open streets
With shackles chained around their feet
Wisdom says to fly away
But they cannot see their wings
Water, water everywhere
But not a drop that I would dare
Drink and so we think we’ll go
Imbibe the filthy air

Wisdom cries out in the streets

But the sirens are singing us to sleep
They’re so loud that I can’t think
I hear voices but I just can’t tell
And when we’re dead, the city prevails

Don’t be silent, God
Don’t be silent
Please, don’t be silent (Psalm 83:1)

Or I will fall into the world
I will fall into the world
Don’t be silent
Please, God, don’t be silent
Don’t be silent
Please, God, don’t be silent
Or I will fall into the world
Or I will fall into the world



Behind the Song:
"I often use the city as a metaphor for the temporal world. The city is a loud, distracting place with traffic, sirens, bright lights, factories, and people busily shuffling down the sidewalks. A few years ago we were leaving Chicago, and I couldn’t help but see the irony in the sight of so many spires shrouded in the smoke from nearby factories. I jotted the first lines of this song down and they lay there forgotten until this song started taking shape.

The city is a looming antagonist in the drama of our lives. It was here before we were born and it will be here after we’re gone. The city was built by the hands of men, but it controls the lives of men. It does not love us, but still we crawl to it. We are drawn toward the flashing lights and the glamorous storefronts. It doesn’t take long for us to forget where we are from and where we were headed. In time we look like all the other zombies hurrying down the sidewalk toward nothing in particular.

There is more than this world and this city has to offer. There is clean water that will quench our thirst forever. Our hope and our redemption is in the streets crying out. Can you hear it?" - Mark Nicks (Cool Hand Luke)

Ecclesiastes 1:4