Christopher Miller

Lyrics

Let The Bees Make Honey

If my guitar was a wondrous staff
I'd lay it in the door
Of every kingdom that turned from peace
To make a war their lord
And in the bowels of the earth
Would rot every emperor's eyes
Who looked with lust on other lands
Who craved and conquered foreign sands
Envisioned nations in his hands
Who saw the map and then deployed
Troops of soldiers
Marching toys
Filled graveyards with our broken boys

I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull
Their iron hands lay severed
Their warships filled with holes
Their light forever vanquished
The desolate dagger dulled
I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull

And if I had the gift of tongues
I'd preach in every land
And mold the poor and hard pressed souls
Into a mighty hand
And lay waste to every border
That confuses and divides
Where the bugle screams for sacrifice
To change a boundary
With men's lives
Who never share the conquered prize
The kings stay kings
The slaves stay slaves
The fallen comrades can't be raised
I fall down on my knees and pray

I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull
Their iron hands lay severed
Their warships filled with holes
Their light forever vanquished
The desolate dagger dulled
I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull

And if I had old Samson's strength
I'd slay the powerful beast
And burn the carcass on an altar
Sacrificed for peace
And if I was a righteous thief
I'd steal the armies wrath
And I'd mute the charge's trumpet blast
Separate the saber from the sash
And when the gun smoke cleared in the aftermath
There'd be cattle grazing on the old warpath
And I'd heal the hearts in men of war
Their tarnished dreams would be restored
As they plow their fields with new made swords

I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull
Their iron hands lay severed
Their warships filled with holes
Their light forever vanquished
The desolate dagger dulled
I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull

But I'm helpless in this wicked life
Where good men die in vain
And their children's only future
Seems to be rattling their father's chains
And I hear the criminals laughing
At my candles flickering glow
As they rule their land like fools
Where human flesh is a tyrant's tool
To build a dynasty this cruel
To crush the spirit and the will
Of the human crop
That they have tilled
But the captive land that they have held
Will raze the walls they were forced to build

I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull
Their iron hands lay severed
Their warships filled with holes
Their light forever vanquished
The desolate dagger dulled
I'd let the bees make honey
In the last tyrant's skull