The Blessed Building

This country is no home of mine.

Come the first light of dawn,
I'm getting out.

This country is no comfort of mine.

I will perfect my craft,
and soar across the world
to fulfill my dream.

This whole country can burn;
this whole country can shrivel,
save that one blessed building
in the county of Anne Arundel.

Sacred salts lining its foundation,
defer my rage, my flame,
and protect my Sanctuary.

O, sacred scent of linens I know
too well,
keep the mem'ry crisp
and fresh
in my brain, so that

I may

still hear

it's echo from

far

far

away.