The Sentinel

Have a seat while I stand
I can even march in place
To the song of your voice

Echoes off my stone walls
Runs head-to-toe through
Stains paintings in the hall

Your chorus is my favorite
Always gives me the chills
Like old cymbals, off-beat

A record scratch repeating
Only unlocks the darkness
Same as broken windows

Cold air blows in as it wills
I’ll wince but won’t flinch
The good seat is all yours

Have a seat while I stand
Calling out to your soldier
I will always be listening

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