Pressed between and life flows out.
(fallen seeds will rise.)
I can feel the hour's come.
I can feel the hour's come.
Lifted up and men draw near.
(spectacles draw crowds.)
I can feel the hour's come.
I can feel the hour's come.
It's My time.
Thunder swell and men's admissions.
(they're circling in, they're circling in).
Opened graves and repetitions.
(they're circling in, they're circling in).
Opened shrouds and dead traditions
(they're circling in, they're circling in).
I can feel the hour's come.
Weak are the ears tuned to hear approving voices
(narrow the gate that leads to rest).
Weak are the feet that lead a man to easier choices,
(narrow the gate that leads to rest).
Even now the axe is laid, even now the axe is laid
(I feel the hour's come).
It's My time.
It's My time.
It's My time.
Writer(s): Caleb Culver
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