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lirik lagu turning of the just – charlie yama

[verse 1]
somewhere underneath that treacherous light
there’s a night sky that’s trying to ignite
a woman stands on a road lined with centipede scales
as if she were ready to conquer the world through relentless gales

the sheepskin clouds of a long forgotten memory
breaks the focused visions of a shaman’s reverie
as the quiet shuffled pacing of his disciples defend
the law of distraction and the rules of neglect and dissent
[chorus]
there’s an oilfield burning, another scandal lights the headline print
ain’t nothing an ant could do to change the turning of the just
comments waiting to be made about the direction of the wind
but from those high black towers, a breeze feels just like a gust

[verse 2]
just down the road in the isle of masquerades
i drink to the forefathers who led us to the last of days
and surely as night creeps on, a deafened ghost of silence howls
like prisons of derangement, walls colored by the sound

‘neath a mid morning sun, she watches across golden meadows
for a lone black flag riding towards her open window
but he’s only just arrived from the ship at the merchant’s port
as he lays his tattered jacket at the stairs of his brother’s court

[chorus]
in the palace of the poor, it’s written “beware the false prophets
they come with kind words promising a turning of the just
i pursued the marching of souls who were marked and destined to lose
their heartless well*wishers throwing themselves against the dust

[verse 3]
in the distance, a full mast lingers swinging on capricious waves
devotion locked in pine trees, a mayor keeps watch with thoughtful gaze
he remembers lost love sticking like a th*rn in his side
wondering will his heart ever burn again with love’s pride?
the watchmaker gleans the masses’ wishes in his slumber
he’s woken by the sound of the woman who once saved him from hunger
well*versed in the languages of the rich and the poor
he speaks to a company of men who built a nation out of war

[chorus]
a broken spirit still may stand, a shattered cup still holds its water
in the hands of a clock, there’s still time for the turning of the just
there’s no wisdom i can give, you’ve sealed the mouths of your sons and daughters
you may well watch your towers crumble and your railroads rust

- charlie yama

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