As the willow leaves on the willow trees keep shaking as they do,
I'm gonna sidestep over this mountain and walk on waters blue.
Because the cretins lie and the police fight,
waiting for a miracle to come their way.
When they could and should have easily
turned their head to the sky and prayed,
they say,
Father,
please have mercy for what we've done.
Let sleeping dogs lie in the burning sun.
As the vultures spin and the cultures sin,
lays waste to all we've come to know and love.
And now honor and truth's a matter long in the tooth,
yet it's veracity we're dreaming of.
So the broken smiles and the token mouths
don't come to make us all just what we are.
As we squeeze the soul snugly into the molds,
unfit to harness but a shooting star.
We pray,
Father,
please have mercy for what we've done.
Let lying dogs burn in the sleeping sun.
Now the willow leaves,
once as thick as leaves,
fills the way with all our hopes and dreams.
And all we want is the illusion of joy,
all the silence and dirt screams.
So we face the dawn,
the pistol drawn,
and the reflection burning in our soul.
And the infiltrated hands,
storms and juries stand as we join in to the final talk.
We sing,
Father,
we want that mercy for what we've done.
Father,
we'll never forgive you for what you've done.
Father,
I'll never forgive you for what you've done.