
Holy Doors, High Tides, and Fault Lines
Liedtext & Quellen
Holy Doors, High Tides, and Fault Lines
Verse 1 — Caracas Nightfall
Under a thundered sky in Caracas, doors were kicked in by ghosts, A president and his bride were flown north to face the coast. A promise rang from a podium: we’ll run what’s not our own, While a gavel met a plea in a New York room of stone. The world shook its head at the force that crossed the line, Congress split like lightning down a storm-wet spine. From Mexico came thunder, from home an oath was sworn, An interim took the daylight where a ruler had been torn.
Sources:
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Chorus
Under winter skies we draw our lines, but bridges still can grow, From holy doors to high tides, from fault lines to the snow. Hold each other, speak the truth, let mercy be the law, The world is loud and breaking, but our hands can mend it all.
Verse 2 — A January at the Dome
It’s another January reckoning beneath the marble dome, Old witnesses retelling what it cost to storm a home. A far-right banner rising, a pardoned voice out front, While some say it was nothing, others name the blunt. One side warns of embers that can swallow up the day, The other paints a different scene and turns the page away. The echo of that stairwell still carries through the chill, As memory and meaning fight for space upon the hill.
Sources:
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Verse 3 — Europe in Whiteout
A polar door swung open, Europe breathed a knife, Black ice wrote a secret on the ordinary life. Planes slept on their runways, rails went cold and still, The tunnel trains went silent between the shore and sill. Paris wore a bedsheet it wasn’t meant to wear, Balkan pines bowed heavy under winter’s iron stare. They said the high winds twisted the stratosphere above, And sent a frozen postcard that no one asked to love.
Sources:
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Verse 4 — Western Japan Tremor
The islands shook awake like a bell with hidden cracks, Aftershocks kept tapping like a drummer at our backs. No sea rose to swallow, no siren split the blue, But hands still held each other, waiting for what to do. The bullet trains fell quiet, then hummed their song once more, A plant kept steady watch along the patient shore. A leader said be ready as the ground kept time, And gratitude felt sacred for the lives still in their prime.
Sources:
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Verse 5 — The Holy Door Closes
On Epiphany’s clear morning, a door of bronze swung closed, A Jubilee of hoping finished where the river flows. Opened by a father, sealed by the next in line, A rare and silent changing of the watch that keeps the time. He spoke against the glitter that turns strangers into trade, Against the fear of foreign hearts and the weapons we have made. He asked for craft of peace instead of war’s machine, For fairness over hunger, for a wider, warmer green.
Sources:
Pope Leo XIV closes the Holy Door at St Peter's to end Jubilee year
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Verse 6 — California Afloat
The ocean climbed the stairways of the cities by the bay, Storms braided with the moon to pull the streets away. Old roads turned into rivers, sirens cut the rain, Rescuers like lanterns moving slow against the grain. In the south the hills surrendered, mud came down like grief, A single soul was taken by a sudden, ruthless thief. The gauges called it record, the docks rose with the tide, And still a thousand hands reached out from either side.
Sources:
Rain continues in parts of California reeling from flooding and high tides
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Bridge
Cold snaps and hot tempers, headlines dressed in gray, But a candle in a window still can teach the storm to stay. If borders, doors, and levees fail, let kindness be a wall, If the ground begins to tremble, sing louder, don’t you fall.
Final Chorus — Run To The Light
Under winter skies we draw our lines, but bridges still can grow, From holy doors to high tides, from fault lines to the snow. Hold each other, speak the truth, let mercy be the law, The world is loud and breaking, but our hands can mend it all.
Coda — The Exciting Ending
Raise your voices like a siren, like a bell across the land, Let the tide turn, let the quake fade, join the march with open hands. From Caracas up to Rome, from Tokyo to the bay, We are thunder without violence, we are dawn at break of day.
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