22
Feb
07

Sand Paper Eyes

I love the word pictures in this song.

Today, I am particularly feeling “these sandpaper eyes and the way they rub the luster from what is seen.”

O, that I might see a glimpse of your glory!

“WORRY TOO MUCH”
by Mark Heard.

    It’s the demolition derby
    It’s the sport of the hunt
    Proud tribe in full war-dance
    It’s the slow smile that the bully gives the runt
    It’s the force of inertia
    It’s the lack of constraint
    It’s the children out playing in the rock garden
    All dolled-up in black hats and war paint

      Sometimes it feels like bars of steel
      I cannot bend with my hands
      Oh-I worry too much
      Somebody told me that I worry too much

        It’s these sandpaper eyes
        It’s the way they rub the lustre from what is seen
        It’s the way we tell ourselves that all these things are normal
        Till we can’t remember what we mean
        It’s the flicker of our flames
        It’s the friction born of living
        It’s the way we beat a hot retreat
        And heave our smoking guns into the river

          Sometimes it feels like bars of steel
          I cannot bend with my hands
          Oh-I worry too much
          Somebody told me that I worry too much

            It’s the quick-step march of history
            The vanity of nations
            It’s the way there’ll be no muffled drums
            To mark the passage of my generation
            It’s the children of my children
            It’s the lambs born in innocence
            It’s wondering if the good I know
            Will last to be seen by the eyes of the little ones

              Sometimes it feels like bars of steel
              I cannot bend with my hands
              Oh-I worry too much
              Somebody told me that I worry too much

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