That Kind of Grace
David RothOriginale | Additional lyrics © 1998, 1999 David Roth |
THAT KIND OF GRACE Sunday morning, Birmingham, quiet in the church Bombs were planted, House of God, children's blood on the cross And your daughter, she was one, angel without wings How could anyone forgive those who do such things And when I sing Amazing Grace, your face is what I see I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me Friday evening in Mobile, klansmen killing time Saw young Michael walking by, he would do just fine Quiet student, mother's best, pleading for his life Strung him up to make a point, sharper than a knife Beulah Mae, his mother stood, people all around In the courtroom listening, as the truth was found From her mouth no curses fell, no profanity "I would do to others what I'd have them do to me..." And when I sing Amazing Grace, her face is what I see I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me Thursday afternoon in the car, turned the radio on The verdict in Los Angeles, oh what have we done Images of violence, yellow, black and white Fifty-two dead, millions lost, who can win this fight On the screen a face of tears, trembling through and through One we've seen so many times beaten on the news I could barely hear his words, full of fear and doubt "People, we can't live like this, we've got to work this out And when I sing Amazing Grace, that face is what I see I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me | THAT KIND OF GRACE Tuesday afternoon...Jonesboro, fire alarm at school Everyone goes rushing out into bloody pools Thirteen and eleven years old, playing grown-up games Mimicking what they’d been taught, now we’ll never be the same Every year they’re younger now, drugs and knives and guns Barely old enough to know the depth of what they’ve done Taken off to juvenile hall, Sheriff shakes his head A teacher tried to block the shots, gave her life instead When I sing Amazing Grace her face is what I see I hope some day that kind of grace will find it’s way through me Wednesday evening, Wyoming, started in a bar Ended on a wooden fence, dragged off in a car Second Friday funeral, countless gathered round Some were there to mourn the loss, others there to confound Some were there to cry the tears born of grief and rage Others carried signs that said "A Cure for Fags is Aids" Matthew Shepard lost his life, his parents lost their son Now he brings a cause to light, reluctant martyrdom When I sing Amazing Grace his face is what I see I hope some day some kind of grace will find it’s way through me "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me I once was lost, but now I'm found Was blind, but now I see" |