I pass old glory, on my way to places we just left
And last time we noted her half mast
Will she ever rise above half way, tis death
And how long shall it last
My friend cried out bout guns last week
And the media shares his mind
But in a place called Nice this week
Seems trucks are not so kind
It reminds me of a story past
When violence filled the earth
And God, from holy places, watching
Comes to regret man's birth
Then for 120 years a man is mocked and scorned
By his fellow men of course, who for pride cannot be warned
And hear it is in my time now
Another crazy man has come
To tell old stories once again
But the world is growing numb
The Kentucky preacher will mourn the loss and speak out against man's disregard for life
But he bothers you so much with this that you must create such strife
I'm driving back, and on the edge of rain and burning dry
There rest a brilliant bow of color, a prism in the sky
A reminder of a promise made a long, long time ago
These waters will not rise again, though men may sink so low
So this finite raises the question then, of infinite, eternal good
And what of justice in such a realm, or an ark that's made of wood
It cannot make the trip this time for it was made with human hands
But the Son of God, my Savior, Lord, that Ark forever stands
- Calvin Yerke
