49.8

There are weightless parades stomping down on the shoreline
Waving plaques, a protesting disease
And the chants are heard loud, clear, by passing parishioners
Who’ve come down to be blessed by the seas

The words from the old book predict of transgression
Forming lists, for ten safe ways to fail
And as quietus rises to take out the flock
They kneel down, liberation, all hail

But the shade is no god work, it’s a devil command
Seize the seas, dry the skies, kill the will
And flood every inch that the unclean inhabit
‘Til the mountains and valleys are filled

Meanwhile just below ground, brews an uprising mob
A contender to take back the throne
Yet they’re packing no armour, no swords and no guns
Just their guitars and voices and songs

Rises up Lonnie Johnson, leading ghosts back to earth
To curse blues upon Lucifer’s hand
And claim back the seas for the pleading civilians
As they’re sinking in synch with the sand

And the cinders of quietus burn through the night
As the bluesmen return to the ground
The devil retreats with the blues of defeat
And the ocean's left drowning in sound