Declaring War from Wrestling by Warbler

Am I a stubborn child, just a little boy,
screaming for access and order—
for blood?

No, I am a wrinkled man,
just a bag of bones,
sitting with scoffing accusers
watching the world go to hell.

God, how can I see and not see?
How can I hear and not hear?
Believing is easy, but living’s impossible...

Here, towards the open sky, I pray,
“God, take the stone away.”
Is it true that You conquered the grave?

Like a thief in the night You will come.
No one can know what time.
How will I know You if I cannot see You

and live and war with myself,
that part of me
that tells my father I hate him
for bringing me into this world—
so full of evil?

Declaring war on my old man.
He buries my head deep in the sand.
He spins the truth to weave a lie.
He feeds on death to stay alive.

Declaring war on my old man.
The stumbling grumbler, broken hands.
Softest worm tongue, friendly ghost.
The parasite that drains the host.

Inventing evils, full of scorn.
Stuck in a mirror, devouring porn.
Bows before the gods of war.
He holds his worth in empty form.

His no is yes; his yes is no…

Thank You for bringing me
into this world of mystery.
Thank You for releasing me
from my own fantasy—random chance.
Thank You for the hardest times,
the lessons learned, the nursery rhymes.
Thank You for freeing me
from the clutches of my enemies.
Thank You for the well-placed word,
the winter swell, the hummingbird.
Thank You for blessing me
in Your universe full of glory.

• Folk
• electronic folk
• folk rock
• indie folk
• psychadelic folk
• Oakland