Sunday Sabbath Poetry: Thom Yorke

I have always loved these wonderful lyrics by Thom Yorke, lead singer of Radiohead. The music is gently vulnerable, equal to the tone of the words' incisive, though heartfelt, critique of the American dream. They seem appropriate for our context today.

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No Surprises

By Thom Yorke (of Radiohead)

A heart that's full up like a landfill,
a job that slowly kills you,
bruises that won't heal.

You look so tired-unhappy,
bring down the government,
they don't, they don't speak for us.

I'll take a quiet life,
a handshake of carbon monoxide,
with no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,

Silent ... silence.

This is my final fit,
my final bellyache,
with no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises, please.

Such a pretty house
and such a pretty garden.

No alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises please.

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When Then Is Now

In the fullness of time
All violence will cease
Disharmony will rhyme
As all creation feasts

Together we will dine
In dining we sill share
And eating will be sign
To all the end is here

So now, set out, the meal
Awaits embodiment
As members we fulfill
In somber merriment

What is lacking in it
And also in ourselves
The end afar is writ
As bodies bare, indwelled

With spirit that is sign
With word and meal, of when
All creation best wine
Will drink, together then