Prayers Of The Saints

Mama sits alone
Where sirens fill the halls
This thing called circumstance dont' make sense to her at all

Mama, beat your breast
Mama, let this go
These things that heaven hears human ears won't know

Talkin bout the prayers of the saints
They can do what most men can't
God bends his ear to hear what they say
Something bout the way they move
Makes them do the things they do
Somewhere a saint is praying for you

Papa strokes the cheek
Of what used to be his girl
Mom won't take too well this hell that's now their world

Papa, let this out
Papa, get this off your chest
These hymns that have no words are where hurt and joy contest