Noah

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I am not Noah, but I made it through a flood
And, I am not a writer, I just gathered what I could
I gathered all the beasts inside of me, one by one
And I swept my love to shelter where I waited for the rains to come

So you could say that I was prepared
So you could say that I was prepared
When the wicked rains all cease to be
I'm still waiting 
For that dove with the olive branch 
To come and greet me

I am not a prophet, I just practice what I preach
I am not a fighter, I just know when I've been beat
I tried to reconcile with and wrestle all of my beasts
And, I swept my love to safety, where I kept her with some secrecy

So you could say that I was prepared
So you could say that I was prepared
When the arrowed sea of war recedes
I'm still waiting 
For the hand in my pocket 
Just wondering where we'll all be

But I am not a martyr, 'cuz I am still alive
And I am not a liar, 'cuz I've yet to tell a lie
I told you what I needed, and it was us side-by side
My love has led my back to you, now it's just waiting for your knife

So you could say that I was prepared
So you could say that I was prepared

But you are no Mara, and that's simple to see
And if anyone's a writer: it's all for history

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