St. Peter - Ina Wroldsen

In the middle of hell lies a little St. Peter

In a hospital bed burning up

With a cloth to his head, he is ridden by fever

And I can’t even tell whether the demons have won

And his mother is there with his brother tied to her back

Praying as hard as she can to a god in a land that I think he forgot

In the middle of hell where a death by mosquito

Is as everyday as my coffee or your cigarette

And she says «God bless me»

She says «God bless me»

And I shake my head

Cause I can’t see God in this hospital bed

But she says «God bless me»

She says «God bless me»

And I look away

But as she lets go of my hand for the first time in this place

I pray

Amen

Amen

I got plenty to give her but there’s nothing to offer

And the little I brought comes far too late

So I urge him to leave with a bottle of water

He is 7 years old, sleeping outside pearly gates

And his mother looks at me with eyes I will never let go

They are angry and sad beyond measure and mad with a childbearing love that I

know

In the middle of hell we just sit with each other

On a hospital bed begging for death to go home

And she says «God bless me»

She says «God bless me»

And I shake my head

Cause I can’t see God in this hospital bed

But she says «God bless me»

She says «God bless me»

And I look away

But as she lets go of my hand for the first time in this place

I pray

Amen

Amen

In the middle of hell lies a little St. Peter

In a hospital bed burning up