For all the saints, who took their chance,
Who wrote their own rules, their own romance
In upstairs rooms, on boats and trains,
De Profundis, threads and stains,
The work remains.
Lord, I'm going to shake it,
Lord I'm going to take it, Lord...
May all the saints, who from their labours rest
Beneath the landslide of souls obsessed with right and wrong,
Who dared to stand against the tide,
Be on your side.
© Pat Fish 2012