Oh Thy Tired Wraiths That Do Fly

Oh thy tired wraiths that do fly
across this dust plagued globe
and cry with wind
and scream in storm
who's suffering shape would drop
and yet is bound to wheel
and mount the air ever
Calling out to heaven or hell
cast in strange mesial
between the two waring states
One's sovereign deals out heavy yokes
One's dictator a stockade of freedom
Whom's captains' play amusement
on the poor dust creatures below

Oh thy tired wraiths, what do you see?
across this orb of waring gods
and blinded flesh
and tolerant souls
who's suffering is self induced
by dealing of the flesh
and freedom of emotions
Who call out to heaven in song
but do not listen to its music
Who's story is short
Calling one Lord of Spirit
while giving another their flesh
And cry in sad vexation
at the poor state thy subsist

Oh thy tired wraiths, fly thee still?
in the firmament is there no peace
and strange release
and hopeful rest
thy distress still a mistress?
who's bound to earth
and its resurrection?
Call out to Zion!
Yell out to New Earth
Break open the seal
Oh thy strange Lion, Lamb
Whom's flesh was cedere
To the ardent architect
Who creates anew.

Oh thy tired wraiths, rest a while
in the word which is spoken
and lived out
and never ending
rest thy in knowledge
hold thy-selves in understanding
for it shall pass
After much destruction
After much rejoicing
Holy, Holy, Holy
We will all say together
Our flesh gone
so that only spirit remains
And we will all be new.