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Mercy Street

For anne sexton
Looking down on empty streets, all she can see
Are the dreams all made solid
Are the dreams all made real
All of the buildings, all of those cars
Were once just a dream
In somebodys head
She pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam
She pictures a soul
With no leak at the seam
Lets take the boat out
Wait until darkness
Lets take the boat out
Wait until darkness comes
Nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey
Nowhere in the suburbs
In the cold light of day
There in the midst of it so alive and alone
Words support like bone
Dreaming of mercy st.

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song performed by Peter Gabriel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sisters Of Mercy

Your faith is not faithful
Your grace has no grace
Your mercy shows no mercy
Is there no way out of this place?
There's a baby crying softly
In a dark and dangerous place
She's imprisones by no language
Fear grips her tiny face
In God's house she's held a hostage
By a cruel and heartless mob
There's some rules they think God's written
And it justifies their job
Sisters of mercy[sisters of mercy]
Daughters of hell[daughters of hell]
They always weave their web of lies
And wrap you in their wicked spell
Sisters of mercy[sisters of mercy]
Masters of pain[masters of pain]
They try to crucify your innocence
And do it in God's name

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song performed by Cher
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The Course Of Time. Book X.

God of my fathers! holy, just, and good!
My God! my Father! my unfailing Hope!
Jehovah! let the incense of my praise,
Accepted, burn before thy mercy seat,
And in thy presence burn both day and night.
Maker! Preserver! my Redeemer! God!
Whom have I in the heavens but Thee alone?
On earth, but Thee, whom should I praise, whom love?
For Thou hast brought me hitherto, upheld
By thy omnipotence; and from thy grace,
Unbought, unmerited, though not unsought—
The wells of thy salvation, hast refreshed
My spirit, watering it, at morn and even!
And by thy Spirit, which thou freely givest
To whom thou wilt, hast led my venturous song,
Over the vale, and mountain tract, the light
And shade of man; into the burning deep
Descending now, and now circling the mount,
Where highest sits Divinity enthroned;
Rolling along the tide of fluent thought,

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poem by Robert Pollok
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 18

Wolleward and weetshoed wente I forth after
As a recchelees renk that [reccheth of no wo],
And yede forth lik a lorel al my lif tyme,
Til I weex wery of the world and wilned eft to slepe,
And lened me to a Lenten - and longe tyme I slepte;
Reste me there and rutte faste til ramis palmarum.
Of gerlis and of Gloria, laus gretly me dremed
And how osanna by organye olde folk songen,

And of Cristes passion and penaunce, the peple that ofraughte.
Oon semblable to the Samaritan, and somdeel to Piers the Plowman,
Barefoot on an asse bak bootles cam prikye,
Withouten spores other spere; spakliche he loked,
As is the kynde of a knyght that cometh to be dubbed,
To geten hym gilte spores on galoches ycouped.
Thanne was Feith in a fenestre, and cryde 'At Fili David!'
As dooth an heraud of armes whan aventrous cometh to iustes.
Olde Jewes of Jerusalem for joye thei songen,
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini.
Thanne I frayned at Feith what al that fare bymente,

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poem by William Langland
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(Forgiveness Poem/Story) A Miraculous Healing

Mercy me.
Gods to the infinity.
A miraculous healing.

It's as if the wounds were never even there.
How is that even possible?
I saw the stabbing.
He should have died.
But yet he's alive.
Somehow he did survive.
Some say it is a pact of lies.
But I know the truth.

Mercy me.
Gods to the infinity.
A miraculous healing.

Mercy me.
Gods to the infinity.
A miraculous healing.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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La Priere de Nostre Dame

A.

Almighty and all-merciable Queen,
To whom all this world fleeth for succour,
To have release of sin, of sorrow, of teen!
Glorious Virgin! of all flowers flow'r,
To thee I flee, confounded in errour!
Help and relieve, almighty debonair,
Have mercy of my perilous languour!
Vanquish'd me hath my cruel adversair.

B.

Bounty so fix'd hath in thy heart his tent,
That well I wot thou wilt my succour be;
Thou canst not warne that with good intent
Asketh thy help, thy heart is ay so free!
Thou art largess of plein felicity,
Haven and refuge of quiet and rest!
Lo! how that thieves seven chase me!

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poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Sinners Prayer

(by lowell glenn and lowell fulson)
Lord have mercy, lord have mercy on me.
Lord have mercy, lord have mercy on me.
Well if Ive done somebody wrong, lord, have mercy if you please.
I used to have plenty of money, the finest clothes in town,
But bad luck and trouble overtaken me, bound to get me down.
Please have mercy, lord have mercy on me.
Well if Ive done somebody wrong, lord, have mercy if you please.
Keep on working now, child.
Lord every morning.
Well if Ive been a bad boy, baby, I declare Ill change my ways.
I dont want bad luck and trouble to follow me all my days.
Please have mercy, lord have mercy on me.
Well if Ive done somebody wrong, lord, have mercy if you please.

song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mercy

(Kurt Stevenson, Patrick Winningham, & Chris Boesel)
Originally recorded for the Georgia soundtrack
I got a feeling
of unrighteousness
bitter cold
hollow bitterness
down the road
I walk with loneliness
mercy will follow me I'm told
Beneath this skin
there lies a heart of stone
It's growing old
so very far, from home
but a heart of gold
I may someday own?
and mercy will follow me, I'm told
mercy will you follow me
mercy will you follow me
to the final breath at last I take
mercy will you follow me

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song performed by Counting Crows
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Court Of Love

With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that non intelligence
Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;
Sauf that me list my writing to convey,
In that I can to please her hygh nobley.

The blosmes fresshe of Tullius garden soote
Present thaim not, my mater for to borne:
Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,
Ne crafte of Galfrid may not here sojorne:
Why nam I cunning? O well may I morne,
For lak of science that I can-not write
Unto the princes of my life a-right

No termes digne unto her excellence,
So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high:

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Fine

A lovers quarrel
Death by a shotgun barrel
With a cleaning solution the instruments are made sterile.
A hairy situation.
Like a plastic surgeon.
Rewriting the expression.
In both the date and time.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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