#67 WHY NOT FLY
#67 WHY NOT FLY
[Americana (gospel-inflected)]
Photos -- bedside table, framed in gold,
Friends and family, places, moments.
His arms reach out -- withered, trembling,
Then collapse on the bed, fists clenched.
Out the stately bedroom windows,
Setting sun paints the vast estate.
His ragged breathing slows and settles,
We gather close, hold still and wait.
It's now time, your hard walk's ending,
Raise your head, look t'wards the sky.
End the climb, your back's done bending.
More than one way up to heaven,
So why not fly.
Searing heat and red dirt floor,
A narrow bed we can't keep dry.
Her hand tugs and twists the sheet,
Loses her grip, and still she tries.
She strains, she pauses -- sweat drips down her neck,
Head swings left, then right -- starts crying.
We mop her brow, we hold her hand,
Her body still, eyes don't stop moving.
It's now time, the pain's now ending,
Rest your head and close your eyes.
Where you're broken will be mending.
They're all waiting up in heaven,
So why not fly.
When both let go, I am there,
Wash their feet, comb their hair.
Place their hands upon their chest,
Plain white shroud, now their dress.
I must rest, but soon will move,
More to care, more to soothe.
It's now time, the steep road's ending.
Your bodies still, we watch on high.
Up here's your garden that needs tending.
We're all waiting here in heaven,
So why not fly.
It's now time, the steep road's ending.
Your bodies still, we watch on high.
Up here's your garden that needs tending.
We're all waiting here in heaven,
So why not fly.