I’d light a fire beside the skin and dig a hole for bones to lay
Find a sacred resting place where the pecking hens wont harm the eyes.
Home, home the air I breathe
Home, home the air I breathe
It’s not enough for me to wait for the open skies to fill with hymn
its my kind to fill the air with broken empty hymn
there’s a blade of grass
there are the things I ain’t
reminisce on my chest
bones of flesh I integrate
Home, home the air I breathe
Home, home the air I breathe
I’d light a fire beside the skin and dig a hole for bones to lay
Find a sacred resting place where the pecking hens wont harm the eyes.
Home, home the air I breathe
Home, home the air I breathe
Home, home the air I breathe
Home, home the air I breathe