My arms shake, I can't feel my legsnMy skin flakes most every daynLeaves a mess of a mannIn a sea full of sinnThe storm is coming innnI open my mouth and find little voicenI was meant to love you, I don't have much choicenBut I will sing this song and I'll sing it with joynThe storm is coming innnSo I hold my breastnImaginingnThe tenor and the bass singingnWe'll beat our breast and sing our songnAnd whip ourselves to the candlelightnnAnd this song is to my enemynThis song is for my priestnAnd this song is for my eagernessnIn my ill prepared feastnnAnd like this rainnI move it alongnRemembered only through my pathetic songnBut the wind it howls and the mobs that roarnThe storm is coming innnI collect your name in a masons jarnPlaces on my shelf and handled with carenBut sometimes the thunder shakes them close to the edgenAnd the storm is coming innnSo it's broken glass on a hardwood floornOnce was here, now no morenIt seemsnSo I take the glass and stab the throatnSo I can hit the holy note from my hymnsnnAnd this song is for the prophetnThis song is for the poornAnd this song is for the holy mennWho abuse our sacred wordsnAnd I'll get down on my kneesnHallelujahnI cry out your namennSo I hold my armsnImagining the tenor and the bass singingnAnd we beat our breast and sing our songsnAnd whip ourselves tot he candlelightnnAnd this song is to my enemynAnd this song is for my priestnAnd this song is for my eagernessnAn ill prepared feastnnAnd I'll get down on my kneesnHallelujahnI cry out your namennAnd I thank younAnd I love younBut I must make you understandnI have become less than a mannAnd the storm is coming in