Lyrics

The Last Morning

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:46:00 +0000

The waning sun of dying hours
faded to glorious sounds
(whistling cheers of hidden words)
and pictures of the men and
women clad in crowns of flowers,
and children of our friends.
They stand in line and crossed
their fingers for the fisher band.

And from the skies that disappeared
I saw a scroll display prophecies
untold to kings who ruled in earthly days.
These things, they echo down the hall
and light the ancient way -
a straight and narrow road
that leads to fatherly embrace.

On my knees I saw his feet,
his sandals made of gold.
Then I heard a voice so sweetly
kind in its grandeur. The sound of
rushing rivers past my ears
like mystery. He wiped my tears
with nail pierced hands cut for eternity.

And I look in your eyes
so much fire that I won't stay cold
And I look in your heart
so much love that I won't lay low

Copyright Dawn Fung
Completed April 2007

The Bridegroom

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:44:00 +0000

Can you see the sun rising up over the
moon with her smile in her hair, black and shining as the
stars in the sky falling down like a fireball
inside, of my eyes burning brightly with sparkles in the
night turning red, turning white, turning over to the
side, feeling sick, curling up, mesmerised as if
some things did collide, in the sky...

Can you hear the life on the ground where you stood
holding the green turn to brown, and the withered thing is
proudly now dust and its sin, was to not believe a
thing in the word prophesied, for this time to die and
till gold is pavement for feet, once the broken world
is crumbling to bits and our memories subside into
sounds in the sky...

Can you see the rain lacerating off the lines
on the road, where you lie deep inside the ground of
broken debris, oversize sliced and shaking in the wind
rising up, like a tide surging through the iron wires
thrown aside, from the skyscrapers torn to pieces when
the messiah, on his horse came with fire in his eyes
to collect you, his bride...

Can you hear the time rolling up its hands to three
in the hour, of the night where the painted cloud has
turned into brush drying up, black and gold dust into
drink sucking small galaxies, into puddles toasting
wine bread and dine for a feast, at the wedding of the
bride and the groom, burning hair, long and tender as his
kiss warm as life...

Copyright of Dawn Fung
Completed 4 June 2008

The Strangers

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:44:00 +0000

Yes we know what the wind don't blow
what the town folks long to hear
chains will fall and the doors will break
for the message we proclaim

it comes with power
wrapped in blood red wool
as white as snow and truth
when it touches you
it makes everything new
every blade of pain be healed

just every song
uniquely sung here
tells of a future foretold

Copyright of Dawn Fung
2 Feb 2008

Harvest

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:43:00 +0000

Man made keys to jump out of
fairy tales of peace and splendour
wistful thoughts behind

A hundred words lock deep into
dancing waves of peace and splendour
shadows sharpen

A time to harvest,
a time for joy,
a time to see if things would grow again,
a time for laughter,
a time to cry,
a time to wander.

A time to gather,
a time to sing,
a time to look at all the pretty things,
a time for sighing
a time to die,
a time to wonder.

Copyright Dawn Fung
Completed April 2007

Beneath the Augured Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:41:00 +0000

I watch his fingers grow
grains and sand, wildflowers
He holds the morning sun.
He smells so sweet like heaven

He walks me on the road
bare feet on the silver
pieces of broken cents,
battered bone and leather

he sings to me a night
of caves in cotton skin
where fettered men broke free
from law and guilt and sin

they changed him for the silver
they crowned him king of kings
with thorns torn from wildflowers
leather whips on his skin.

he gives me grain and sandals
he draws his name in sand
I smell the fresh wildflowers
upon his broken hands

Parsley, sage, rosemary and rhyme
Roses are red and the violets are mine
Innocence lies where the wind and the willows entwine

Copyright Dawn Fung
Completed April 2007

Doorkeeper

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:40:00 +0000

Doorkeeper, doorkeeper,
where have the kids gone?
No songs from the pasture
echo with their sound,
no wide open gate
beckon freedom and friend,
nor cries in the distance
attract the free man.
Stillness walks the forest
where sorrow now stands.

Doorkeeper, doorkeeper,
look yonder the blue -
the hairs of the children
cascade down the hill.
They follow the man with
a flute and a tune.
No lips soft and tender
will call out for you,
fair maiden, to play
among white lily fields.

Doorkeeper, doorkeeper,
no hope is all lost.
A boy who walks slowly
is left far behind,
the crutches he leans on
is worn out with time.
So guard him with kisses
upon his forehead -
the sweetness of heaven
sleeps soundly in bed.

Copyright of Dawn Fung
Completed 16 April 2007

The Family Song

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:38:00 +0000

When the walls of the families fall down
stone hearts melt away
When the walls of the families fall down
troubles will not stay

Even when the dark clouds grow
Our wills shall not be broken
Even with the storms around
Our peace will not be shaken

Children watch from soulless towers
for the fields to play in
Brothers fight against their own
sisters just like orphans

Fathers cut down blocks of strife
burn them into pieces
Mothers watch the rising flames
tears flow into rivers

Copyright Dawn Fung
Completed April 2007

Beth

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:36:00 +0000

Sweet little Beth
who thought nothing of time,
kissed the young man who stood
outside her door every night.
He had said he'd never leave her
nor sail on their wedding day.

Letters in frames
told the evergreen tale
of the young hero's life
and his bride left behind.
With a child she swore to bring up,
Beth agreed to another hand.

Scarred season arms
pulled her young son aboard,
who'd forgotten to read
the duty he signed up for.
Hear the cry of dear old Beth
who now grieves by the empty shore.

For the wife of a soldier
who fought in the war,
"every man for himself" or for her.
Empty words on the streets
from the ships that return
he'd be back for the sweetheart he loves.

Copyright Dawn Fung
Completed 17 July 2007

Before The Throne

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:35:00 +0000

Don't forget the stories heard when you were young
Don't believe the words that hurt when you were done
Don't give in to cares and worries in your heart
Don't forsake the ones who wash your feet in tears

In the end the soldiers carrying banners will come marching home
Light a candle for the multitudes singing the victory song
Can you hear the angels in a rousing sound of voices
Can you see the elders with your prayers before the throne

Copyright Dawn Fung
Completed 17 July 2007

Isaiah

noreply@blogger.com (Dawn Fung) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:28:00 +0000

Isaiah saw a vision
of a great and mighty war
led by a young boy born among
gold, incense and myrrh.
The nation of his birth will sleep,
safe among the burning trees.

Isaiah on the floor
in reverence of the God he saw,
walking the earth among the men,
abounding forth in miracles.
The branch of royalty will touch
the lips of warm, repentant hearts.

Isaiah caught beyond
the trial of the man who wore
a thousand tongues of saintly songs
resounding down temple walls,
when the people sang around
the king in all resplendent crowns.

winter, winter on the ground
the lame will run around the town
the blind, the blind, will see the sun
the poor, the rich will feast as one

Copyright Dawn Fung
Completed 10 July 2007