Hope for Bickle

So who weeps downstairs For the man in his oak snares? Seeds sown centuries ago The patient wake of his ego Leave your dingy flat for home stately I know you're trying to hate me I know you can't berate me You've been a soldier lately You've been a soldier lately You reach your arm into the mist You flesh attacked by loneliness In times still you feel warmth on palm It hits your brow it makes you calm You welcome your savior will full heft You pull yourself to your breast You help yourself in your best You hold yourself to your breath You hold yourself with your breath