When we finally found that the pieces fit and the oxygen left the body weak and crumbling, dissolving into dust. I hear the choir singing their endless song and I forgot what it’s like to live at one with all, what it’s like above. So wild and sweet let the words repeat. Let the words repeat. May there be peace upon all the earth, and good will to men. We speak of grace we cannot know or understand. If I couldn’t choose where I was born did I really choose my path. Bless us Lord we need to know from our heads down to our toes, your grace for all is deep enough. So pull us under. I was never born with a serpent’s tongue. And who can blame a child when the cycle corrupts. We all need grace, cause we don’t choose where we come from. So pull us under. Pull us under.