Promise of a rose that now lies withered in your hand,
The stain of wine that over-ripened on the vine,
The chase that gave you life, leaves you in a heap,
Your wings are weary from the flight,
No grace in loneliness, the hollow of alone,
Deafening sound of a voice that can't be found,
You are remote, and brief, and lost from yourself,
The mystery keeps you coming back.
Drink the water from my hand,
Drink the water from my hand,
When the others have all lied, let your thirst be satisfied,
And drink the water from my hand,
Oh, be satisfied.
You huddle on the porch, there's holy ground behind the door,
You feast on stones to put flesh upon your bones,
Soul is drowning in the late-night rain,
Rust clings to what is left.
Drink the water from my hand,
Drink the water from my hand,
When the others have all lied, let your thirst be satisfied,
And drink the water from my hand,
Oh, be satisfied.
In strange winds you are turned like a page,
I cut my hands and my feet to say, "I'll be the ransom for your held-hostage soul."
Drink the water from my hand,
Drink the water from my hand,
When the others have all lied, let your thirst be satisfied,
And drink the water from my hand,
Drink the water from my hand,
Drink the water from my hand,
Drink the water from my hand,
Drink the water from my hand,
Oh, be satisfied.
