Immanuel

Immanuel, every blue is like a synapse bloom; it’s beautiful here, among the pink and peppered heather. There were whisps of wool amongst the thistle; I knelt and I gathered them, and with thread, tucked them ‘neath the hem of my fleece. And all the while by distance and mile, Bethlehem sleeps. ** Falsetto in a European chapel, an apple tree blossoms outside; I can hear his voice, I can hear his voice. While by distance and mile, Bethlehem sleeps. Pray for me. ** Immanuel, every blue is like a synapse bloom; it’s beautiful here, among the pink and peppered heather. In ink on my inner lip The Word, and yes! I speak to God; when the night is dim, and the oxygen ‘s thin. And all the while by distance and mile, Bethlehem sleeps. Pray for me.