New Orleans Witness
searching for a reason not to look
it's a hot night and i can feel the beat of the city
in my feet
i know the devil is out there, i can feel him, you dig
i can feel his evil emanating through the streets of the
quarter
i can hear his feet in the patter of horses hooves
in the beat of the music
i can feel him in the heat
smell him in the scent of the garbage and the sewers
the city is a living graveyard of the lost
they wander like ghosts through the moonlit streets
whispering secrets to the walls
i see them, hopeless, lost futureless in limbo
the city is an assylum for the strange
a purgatory of the damned
the homes, the brick, crumbling into decay
dryad lovliness of crawling vine and broken stone
calls to me like coming home
i witness on the corners
to the unwanted, the outcast
who mutter and curse at me
darting eyes and fingers stained with tabacco
eyes wild with vivid visions
they dance the dance of the damned
howling, mad screaming to the sky
i witness to the lonely
to the forgotten, the unknown
lice filled sleeping bags, blankets
empty eyes, mirror eyes in which i see myself
but for the grace of God
i witness on the corners
in the heat, the smell, the sound of Satan
proof of his existence all around me in the night air
the air itself tainted and stained
the music off-key and strained
aiming for notes that aren't there, higher and faster
who is blowing that sax, it spins my head
it makes my head hurt, it gets in my head
i can hear him in the jazz, the smazz
in the notes that aren't there
the city is wrapped in it, cloaked in it
in the heat, the smell the sound of it
satan
i witness to the city, to the night, to the lost
to the damned and the forgotten
i witness to the walls,
the chaotic conflict of the moonlit beauty
touches me in ways i can't describe
to you
to the walls i give my witness
AnnieAngel
copyright 2003
I wrote this a couple ago and thought about it again today. I miss street witnessing. I miss being on an adventure with Jesus. I miss making a real difference, the internet is a good tool, but with so many demons trolling everywhere it sometimes makes me feel like nothing I say on here will ever make a difference to anyone.
it's a hot night and i can feel the beat of the city
in my feet
i know the devil is out there, i can feel him, you dig
i can feel his evil emanating through the streets of the
quarter
i can hear his feet in the patter of horses hooves
in the beat of the music
i can feel him in the heat
smell him in the scent of the garbage and the sewers
the city is a living graveyard of the lost
they wander like ghosts through the moonlit streets
whispering secrets to the walls
i see them, hopeless, lost futureless in limbo
the city is an assylum for the strange
a purgatory of the damned
the homes, the brick, crumbling into decay
dryad lovliness of crawling vine and broken stone
calls to me like coming home
i witness on the corners
to the unwanted, the outcast
who mutter and curse at me
darting eyes and fingers stained with tabacco
eyes wild with vivid visions
they dance the dance of the damned
howling, mad screaming to the sky
i witness to the lonely
to the forgotten, the unknown
lice filled sleeping bags, blankets
empty eyes, mirror eyes in which i see myself
but for the grace of God
i witness on the corners
in the heat, the smell, the sound of Satan
proof of his existence all around me in the night air
the air itself tainted and stained
the music off-key and strained
aiming for notes that aren't there, higher and faster
who is blowing that sax, it spins my head
it makes my head hurt, it gets in my head
i can hear him in the jazz, the smazz
in the notes that aren't there
the city is wrapped in it, cloaked in it
in the heat, the smell the sound of it
satan
i witness to the city, to the night, to the lost
to the damned and the forgotten
i witness to the walls,
the chaotic conflict of the moonlit beauty
touches me in ways i can't describe
to you
to the walls i give my witness
AnnieAngel
copyright 2003
I wrote this a couple ago and thought about it again today. I miss street witnessing. I miss being on an adventure with Jesus. I miss making a real difference, the internet is a good tool, but with so many demons trolling everywhere it sometimes makes me feel like nothing I say on here will ever make a difference to anyone.
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