†††††††††††††††††††††† Kyrie

A man in a lifeboat adrift on the sea,

Crying out to the wind and what gods there might be,

Has no hope of a rescue, yet still struggles on,

Pushed by instinct towards life until all of itís gone.

Rising higher and higher, the torturing sun.

Now the water surrounds him, and yet there is none.

He can barely remember how he came to be here,

But heís past really caring, heís just feeling fear.

He can hardly recall what his life used to be,

Was he rich, was he poor, was he slave, was he free?

Was he somebodyís lover, or somebodyís friend?

And how much does it matter when youíre so near the end?

Rising higher and higher, the torturing sun.

Now the water surrounds him, and yet there is none.

He has never tried praying, but whatís there to lose,

So he searches his memory for some word to use.

††† Kyrie.

††† Kyrie.

A man in a lifeboat adrift on the sea,

He has now fallen silent, accepts what must be.

It has all become clear, thereís no will to fight on,

He was living on hope and now all of itís gone.

Rising higher and higher, the torturing sun.

Now the water surrounds him and yet there is none.

He no longer remembers how he came to be here,

And it no longer matters, thereís nothing to fear.

back