Isaac

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Edward Sexton

Edward Sexton (9 November 1942 – 23 July 2023) was a British Savile Row tailor, fashion designer and manufacturing consultant. Sexton was called a key player in the history of Savile Row. more »

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Isaac, Isaac
I know you feel alone
Your arms are weighed down by your sleeves
And I can hear it in your tone
As you whisper to the ground
With the Lord of Civilisation
Who drones and moans
Of how we could never have a conversation
Without the ground splitting in two

Isaac, Isaac
Forget her face
The light and the paper can't hold her
As you try so hard to trace
With the charcoal dust on your finger
When your pencil drops to the floor
As you miss the hiss
Off her shoes walking past the door
As your tried to draw her blind

Isaac, Isaac
Lift up your eyes
There is something burning in the distance
Watch as your body in the fires
And flashes of your face still spit in my mind
and flick like the pages of a book
Spoken and broken
You give me a forlorn look
And I am guilty from then on

Isaac, Isaac
Why must you die
Just because the axe is made of Gold
And there is no one else to try
To understand the few little words
That dance for the few who feel
Mistaken and Forsaken
To the point where they must kill
Our son in the desert sand

Isaac, Isaac
Here am I
The spades are buried and the clubs are beaten
And here you must lie
In the hot sand and my arm
Isaac, Isaac
I know you cannot be calm
Isaac, behold, here I am

Isaac, Isaac
Please cry on my shoulder
To put out the flame that burns the stone steps
While the embers on your coat smoulder
And light the hairs on your arm
Keeping you warm in the night
That burns and turns
Until the dawn when you feel alright
And leave my side

Isaac, Isaac
This is your life
Brush the blood out of your blond hair
You take the charge and knife
And lead yourself to the hearts
That belong to those who repent
And face the disgrace
Of the ugly who watch you relent
On anger at the storm

Isaac, Isaac
This is your kingdom
Built by your cold paragraphs
Written at night, on the pages of freedom
Sitting on the edges of silence
Watched by the smaller giants
They Dream and Scheme
And covet in your triumphs
Forged by your words

Isaac, Isaac
Run to the pyramids and wait
In the evening when the shadows are condemned
You think back on all the faces you'd hate
As you get undressed in the dark
And find someplace cold to lie
Sleep or take the leap
And swim in the oceans I cry
Above the desert sand

Isaac, Isaac
Here am I
The Diamonds are cut and the way has been lost
There is nothing more I can try
I won't hold you anymore
Isaac, Isaac
For you are the open door
Isaac, behold, here I am

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