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lyrics

Quietly building a compelling ending,
but you're never gonna rest at all
in bed at the hospital.

Stories and wisdom, paperback fiction,
your keys are in the kitchen.
I'll leave them there in the bowl,
or on the hook at the end of the hall.
I can take them down when they start to rust.

Death has no respect for us.
Death has no respect for us,
but it fears our God and it fears His love.
Death has no respect for us.
Death has no respect for us.

Looking for healing, compassion and reason,
but the keys to the kingdom - they're not for sale.
And the world has gotten stale.
So you bite your tongue, but it tastes like rust,
and your lungs still work, but they're filled with dust.
If you can't find truth, can you start with trust?

Death has no respect for us.
Death has no respect for us,
but it fears our God and it fears His love.
Death has no respect for us.
Death has no respect for us.

credits

from None Of The Color, released March 1, 2016
John Benda: vocals, guitars, piano, drums
Justin Klaas: guitars, programming

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about

John Benda Lawrence, Kansas

John Benda is a rock/punk drummer turned sometimes singer/songwriter. He lives in Lawrence, Kansas and is quite pleased with that fact.

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