[Verse 1] I wake before the sun hits the floor of the room, chasing away the shadows and the weight of the gloom. I reach for the beads, cold glass in my palm, a tactile anchor in the middle of the storm, keeping me calm. It’s a rhythm, a cadence, a steady heartbeat, walking through the mysteries while I’m off of my feet. From the Desert Fathers with their ropes and their stones, to the silence of the chapel where I’m never alone. It’s not just repetition, it’s a climb to the peak, finding strength in the words that the humble ones speak. Fifty-nine steps on a ladder of light, turning the darkness of the day into the vision of night. [Chorus] It’s the Rosary, a garland of roses in the air, a discipline of spirit, a heavy weight of prayer. Through the joyful, the sorrowful, the glorious light, I’m holding onto grace with all of my might. Bead by bead, I’m weaving a crown, laying all my burdens and my ego back down. It’s the Rosary, the rhythm of the soul, making the broken pieces finally whole. [Verse 2] They call it a remedy, an antidote to the pride, a way to keep the compass pointed steady inside. It takes a master’s patience just to sit in the still, bending my own desire to a higher, deeper will. I’m walking with Mary, through the life of the Son, counting every decade until the battle is won. It’s a mental marathon, a focus that’s sharp, playing out the Gospel like a song on a harp. No room for the noise, no room for the doubt, just the steady flow of faith that I’m pouring out. It’s the discipline of daily, the commitment to stay, when the world tries to pull me a different way. [Bridge] It’s a chain that connects me to the ancient and new, a bridge built of mercy that I’m walking through. From the Creed to the ending, every prayer is a stone, building up a temple where the seeds are all sown. It’s the breath of the spirit, the pulse of the creed, planting the garden from a single small seed. [Chorus] It’s the Rosary, a garland of roses in the air, a discipline of spirit, a heavy weight of prayer. Through the joyful, the sorrowful, the glorious light, I’m holding onto grace with all of my might. Bead by bead, I’m weaving a crown, laying all my burdens and my ego back down. It’s the Rosary, the rhythm of the soul, making the broken pieces finally whole. [Outro] One more decade, one more breath, life in the middle of the shadow of death. The beads are cooling down, but the fire remains, breaking all the links of the invisible chains. Just me and the Mother, just me and the Son, the prayer is finished, but the journey’s begun.
