Come Awake
<--Do Not Move
|
Lyrics
Written by David Crowder, Mike Hogan, and Jason Solley ©2005 worshiptogether.com Songs / sixsteps Music (ASCAP) Admin by EMI CMG Publishing / Inot Music (ASCAP) . Are we left here on our own? Can you feel when your last breath is gone? Night is weighing heavy now. Be quiet and wait for a voice that will say... Come awake, from sleep arise. You were dead, become alive. Wake up, wake up, open your eyes. Climb from your grave into the light. Bring us back to life. You are not the only one who feels like the only one. Night soon will be lifted, friend. Just be quiet and wait for a voice that will say... Rise, rise, to life, to life... Shine. Light will shine. Love will rise. Light will shine, shine, shine, shine. He’s shining on us now. |
About
from http://www.davidcrowderband.com/band/crowder/acollision.php
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
“Why? Why must it be this way?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Her eyes closed. They were heavy. And these thoughts were heavy. And she was tired. She wasn’t scared, but she was tired.
He was tired. His heart was heavy. He was scared.
“I’m so tired,” she said.
“So am I,” he said.
“It will be soon,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
“I’m glad. It will be just in time. I’m just so tired. And the weight is so heavy. In my chest. I’m ready for things to be lighter, “ she said.
“I know,” he said.
“I will miss you,” she said. “I think. I hope. I love it here. But I’m so tired.”
“I know,” he said.
“I’m not scared. It’s not that I’m afraid; it’s just that I don’t want to leave. I mean I do. I want to go to heaven. I’m certain it is beautiful. But I love your face. I just don’t want to die. It sounds so final. And I just don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave all of this. I mean I do, some of it, this weight. This pain. These tubes. And that stupid blinking thing that keeps getting lighter and quieter,” she said, her eyes opening, resting on the screen beside her.
“I know,” he said.
He turned to look at the green blips of flat valleys and sharp peaks and wondered how long he’d stared at the monitor in total. He considered that if he were to count the minutes his eyes had rested on her pulse for these months, it would add up to more than was comfortable to consider. Hours. Sitting. Watching life. Her life. Blinking from a screen. She was alive. She was here. With him. He remembered the night the peaks stopped for the first time. The long unwavering tone that was the loudest sound he’d ever heard. How it had brought so many people rushing about. All with the hopes to bring the screen back to vivacity. Everyone working furiously. Everyone’s eyes resting on the screen. He knew, when it came for good, he would stay in that loud unwavering monotone valley for the rest of his existence. He was scared. It was coming. Soon.
“It will be ok,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
Her eyes had moved from the screen to his face. She loved his face. It was full of lines, deep lines that she had watched come, everyone of them. When she had seen him for the first time, so many years ago, his skin was smooth, so smooth for such a hardened little boy. But the years had come and left their mark and she had been there for their arrival. She was worn into each of them.
“You know none of us are getting out of here alive,” she said.
“I wonder,” he whispered back...
from http://www.davidcrowderband.com/band/crowder/acollision.php
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
“Why? Why must it be this way?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Her eyes closed. They were heavy. And these thoughts were heavy. And she was tired. She wasn’t scared, but she was tired.
He was tired. His heart was heavy. He was scared.
“I’m so tired,” she said.
“So am I,” he said.
“It will be soon,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
“I’m glad. It will be just in time. I’m just so tired. And the weight is so heavy. In my chest. I’m ready for things to be lighter, “ she said.
“I know,” he said.
“I will miss you,” she said. “I think. I hope. I love it here. But I’m so tired.”
“I know,” he said.
“I’m not scared. It’s not that I’m afraid; it’s just that I don’t want to leave. I mean I do. I want to go to heaven. I’m certain it is beautiful. But I love your face. I just don’t want to die. It sounds so final. And I just don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave all of this. I mean I do, some of it, this weight. This pain. These tubes. And that stupid blinking thing that keeps getting lighter and quieter,” she said, her eyes opening, resting on the screen beside her.
“I know,” he said.
He turned to look at the green blips of flat valleys and sharp peaks and wondered how long he’d stared at the monitor in total. He considered that if he were to count the minutes his eyes had rested on her pulse for these months, it would add up to more than was comfortable to consider. Hours. Sitting. Watching life. Her life. Blinking from a screen. She was alive. She was here. With him. He remembered the night the peaks stopped for the first time. The long unwavering tone that was the loudest sound he’d ever heard. How it had brought so many people rushing about. All with the hopes to bring the screen back to vivacity. Everyone working furiously. Everyone’s eyes resting on the screen. He knew, when it came for good, he would stay in that loud unwavering monotone valley for the rest of his existence. He was scared. It was coming. Soon.
“It will be ok,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
Her eyes had moved from the screen to his face. She loved his face. It was full of lines, deep lines that she had watched come, everyone of them. When she had seen him for the first time, so many years ago, his skin was smooth, so smooth for such a hardened little boy. But the years had come and left their mark and she had been there for their arrival. She was worn into each of them.
“You know none of us are getting out of here alive,” she said.
“I wonder,” he whispered back...