Treasury of Prayers

That my enemies are slow, that my fevers are weak

That my lessons don’t hurt, that my medicine is sweet

That these days are not the pearls, and I am not the swine

That faithful’s not a word that I cannot define

That I find my will to fight, that I lose my taste for drink

And if that’s too much to ask, that my hangovers are brief

That while we’re here on earth I can keep the difference hid 

Between what I should have done and what I really did

That my children live out stories they can tell around a fire

That they can recognize beauty, that they can recognize a liar

That their innocence remains, that they never question my love

That they work to build cathedrals they won’t live to pray inside of

That our better angels sing of peace instead of war

That the pistol’s close at hand when the wolf is at the door

That the plot never thickens, the other shoe never drops

That the age of grace begins, when the age of reason stops

That it feels just like a memory when my father calls me home

Like I’m racing under streetlights back to dinner on the stove

That there’s a candle in my window, that there’s roses on my grave

From those that I befriended, from those that I betrayed

That the three men I admire the most, never caught that last train for the coast

That the music never died, that the levy wasn’t dry 

That we might be east of Eden but we’re heading west tonight

Well, I heard the news this morning and my hope will never end

That you found heaven quick from here in Baltimore, my friend