Dionysus - Chris Thile

Lead me to some holy place

Then shut my eyes that I might taste

Your land your sky your sea

And I’ll sing you what I see

Lord

I’ll sing you what I see

And when we’re in that holy place

Plug up my ears that I might taste

Our days our months our years

And I’ll dance you what I hear

Lord

I’ll dance you what I hear

It’s the prayer of a species at war

With itself since the day it was born

O Dionysus

Come and wash our minds

Clean of wants and wishes

That keep us so damn far behind the eight ball

Always set to fight or fly

I fly to the pleasures of your table every night

Trying to make light of the battl with a buddy and a bottle of the blood of

Dionysus

Come and stain our teeth

With your purpl kisses

And help us find our way beneath the surface

Of each other’s ingrown lives

Then meet me at the cellar door

Where the heirs of Dionysus pour

The soul of time and psace

And let’s play them what we taste

Lord

Let’s play them what we taste