story, brush strokes that illustrate, Rising with the dawn, no more time to hesitate, Life’s a canvas, each choice we navigate. Echoes of the past, whisper through the street, Lessons carved in stone, never taste defeat, Montage of a dreamer, vision's so complete, Walking through the chapters where triumph and trials meet. Montage scenes flicker, fast forward through the pain, Each frame a picture, glory and the gain, Saint Montage, a legacy we claim, Built on resilience, in every refrain. Hook: Saint Montage, paint pictures on the skyline, Dreams in montage, real life in the byline, From the pavement, to the stars where we might climb, In each moment, saint’s story in the timeline. 21:T5b9,She came in all twinge and cringe - and without a sound she took me down. I was a thundercloud then, a heavy shroud, but I was dry inside, chased by hell's hounds, and she was proud; she froze me, shattered me with no warning somehow. It was a crowning act of glorious mourning, it was low-down and crazytown, all sugar, corrosion and clowns, it was all around and I was picked apart, eaten by her crows; it was a massacre, it was art: my limbs crippled, my heart ripped from its beating start; I was a quaking termite mound, aching to shiver, collapse and drown. I got hit hard, I admit - I was eyes closed, head down; I was beaten into the ground, I woke, paralysed and screaming, disbelieving, all fume and steaming, wasn't sure I wasn't dreaming, robbed of all meaning, leaning barely on the railing, ailing – sure, you could call it that. I was wailing wild jazzy scat; once I was a cool cat, yeah, but I was absolutely nowhere now – that was right where I was at. But Bobby pulled me off the mat. Bobby, yeah, he saw me bleeding, grabbed me cuff and sleeve, taught me to breathe again, stand up, smile, say cheese again. He dried me, tried to guide me, had me fed, clothed, made me realize where I was, to remind me of the prize; I sighed, I cried, "Sure Bobby, I am finally alive." But I lied. I had long put down my sword. I was drilled and bored, I was bull-gored, I was wiped out, humiliated, had lost the war, hiding from the Lord; 22:T610, It's a knife cutting pain Like a piece of art blood stained What can we say I still remember that day Your head in my hand I'll keep you if I can In this place where we are Painfully beautiful broken hearts I told you I was fine nothing on my mind the truth was buried deep inside so I lied, I lied. How do we move on when our love is so strong, so strong. Heartache is a painting left undone we were two lovers star crossed under that Midwest sun. The knife cutting pain my heart on a chain, the canvas stained with the love of a twin flame. What can we say I still remember that day Your head in my hand I'll keep you if I can In this place where we are Painfully beautiful broken hearts, Painfully beautiful broken hearts. It's a knife cutting pain Like a piece of art blood stained What can we say I still remember that day Your head in my hand I'll keep you if I can In this place where we are Painfully beautiful broken hearts I told you I was fine nothing on my mind the truth was buried deep inside so I lied, I lied. How do we move on when our love is so strong, so strong. Heartache is a painting left undone we were two lovers star crossed under that Midwest sun. The knife cutting pain my heart on a chain, the canvas stained with the love of a twin flame. What can we say I still remember that day Your head in my hand I'll keep you if I can In this place where we are Painfully beautiful broken hearts, Painfully beautiful broken hearts.23:T490,(Verse 1) Fog clings to the cobblestones, a shroud on neon sin Streetlamps cast long shadows where secrets crawl within The saxophone whispers a bluesy lament in the night A dame with ruby lips walks by, a vision bathed in light (Chorus) This city's got a heartbeat, a rhythm all its own A melody of shadows where the righteous fear to roam I'm a tenor i

Symphonic Combat

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