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lirik lagu donald revell - the children's undercroft

in rooms beneath the church we stood up singing
we marched behind our little cross in time to the yellow keys
of someone’s castoff spinet, wishing we were upstairs under the big cross
the light was ordinary as it fell in through plain windows near the ceiling
we kept thinking of the adults and their windows
angels and doves in blood~red clouds
we matched and waited to march up to the real kingdom
if there are many mansions, there arе many rooms surely
the ones i’m thinking of now arе a brown cl~ster of alcoves
named for whatever child saint
crowned and smiling under its cracked bell jar each contained
we were assigned to alcoves by grades
after the hymns and marching, we would gather around our saints in folding chairs and learn to be just like them
to merit, like them, an eternity of crowned, famous smiling
it was a lesson that would not end, even when we had folded up our chairs
and stacked them in the last ritual of our small sunday
perfection, fame, and an ecstatic death seemed all of a piece
anything less, anything as stained and usual as our own lives
was an impoverishment we could not imagine and had to live with anyway
it would drag through unremarkable events toward nothing happy
for us, as we stood waiting among the crooked stones of the churchyard to be taken home
eternity would either come soon
or in time only to be more of the same anxious, unecstatic marching
every sunday the spinet would sound more cast off
our easy hymns would become dull or silly
over~rehe~rs~d, we would at last enter the real kingdom unmoved
and not sing

- lirik lagu donald revell

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