Edwin McCain



Prayer To St. Peter

Give them couches where the angels sleep

And light those fires

Let them wake whole again

To brand new dawns

Fired by the sun

Not war-times bloody guns

May their peace be deep

Remember where the broken bodies lie

God knows how young they were

To have to die

Give them things they like

Let them make some noise

Give dance hall bands not golden harps

To these our boys

Let them love Peter

For they've had no time

They should have bird songs and trees

And hills to climb

The taste of summer

And a ripened pear

And girls sweet as meadow wind

And flowing hair

And tell them how they are missed

But say not to fear

It's gonna be all right

With us down here