Eyes of God

Michael Channing

the veil flows like a wound in my head
rice, like maggots, writhe in my hair
the bell tolls the start of a brand new life
i cry for the one no longer there
here in the eyes of god

tin cans and shoes--shaving cream
a bucket of ice melting in a hotel room
i love you he says, now take off that dress
i have something to prove
here in the eyes of god

it's late, and i'm tired, but i sit up in bed
the tv tells me its lies
he'll walk through the door and everyone will laugh
as he swaggers from side to side
here in the eyes of god

i bend my knees, fold my hands
try my best to pray
but all they can tell me is jesus is watching
and he wants you to stay
give him some time they say to me give him some room
i guess enough to swing and miss
if that's what you're telling me then i say to hell with you
i wash my hands of this
here in the eyes of god
here in the sightless eyes of god

Liner Notes

As a kid, I attended a Pentecostal church. The holiest of rollers. One of the strictest, too. They don't let their female members wear make-up or jewelry or pants. And they don't look too kindly on divorce, either, even when the man exercises his god-given duty to beat the hell from his wife.

The church authorities counceled my mom, and she stayed for years, let my father back in even after her first escape attempt. That's the reason I gave up on the church, on churches in general. God can climb right back up on that cross for all I care.