I'm tired of all the evil I'm seeing
Daily I must remind myself
Only I'm Christ do I
Live move and have my being
Evil tries to tell me,how to think
What to say or what to do
What is my Savior
For my life made
All things new
NYC I'm not your mama,you're hoe,or your boo
It was Jesus who sacrificed His
Life for yoo
Yet you grow violent
In your hearts against Him too
I'm tired of you
Biggin up your gods that a pagan
When Jesus was God
Before all of His creations
Only He the God of Heaven not Satan
It's by Him alone
Where the faith of His followers
Like me began
Swaying
undulating
like bouquets from heaven
so gently descending
in white waves
the flowers of youth came down.
They kissed the tall trees
and church spires
as they made for the village green
and the roads
and back gardens seen
on the way
to the aerodrome
It was blue sky above us
white clouds with no motion
Sunday bells ringing
as we watched from the windows.
Peace all around
soon to be shattered
As the parachutes landed
we saw soldier men
and guns to the fore.
They missed Biggin Hill
but we caught them
on a quiet Sunday morning
when a vision of flowers his death at our door.
Bright
in the night
ladders of light
pools
for planes in sight
Rumble
and grumble
the roar of the guns
splatter
and cracker
Yes I was young
but the fear of the gun
lobbing from Hayes Common
protecting the Biggin
lives in the memory
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