The Maker

Oh, oh, deep water|ItÕs black and cold like the night|I stand with arms wide open|IÕve run a twisted mile||IÕm a stranger|In the eyes of the maker||I could not see for the fog in my eyes|And I could not feel for the fear in my life|And from across the great divide|In the distance I saw a light||It was Jean Baptiste|He was walking to me with the maker||My body is bent and broken|By a long and dangerous sleep|I canÕt work the Fields of Abraham|And turn my head away||IÕm not a stranger|In the eyes of the maker||Brother John|Have you seen the homeless daughters|TheyÕre standing there with broken wings|I have seen the flaming swords|There over east of eden|Burning in the eyes|Burning in the eyes|And theyÕre burning in the eyes of the maker|Oh, river rise from your sleep