Из альбома: Shrines
I came down over the sleeping mountains
where our white tones plunged
into the weeping shelter
Tear our skin up out from the bottom
leaves our ankles bare
Don't just wander back and forth and leave it
Build it into
pinnacles and shrines
of some,
some ghastly predicament in mind
you'll find
leaves us plastered to a bed of hairs
We'll be all coiled up near the bottom
with my chest, unbare it
Obedear, the sky is low
Gather up its harm and gods
with grateful arms
Obedear, the sky is low
Gather up its harm and gods
with grateful arms
Obedear, the sky is low
Watch fluids seem and rid their rudders
Oh, they'll
grace it with their wind arrows
'tis in the feathers that, that
they branch below, low
Oh my dreams,
come back to me, back to me
back to...
All my wrinkles,
build on me, build on me
build on...
Obedear, the sky is low
Gather up its harm and gods
with grateful arms
Obedear, the sky is low
Gather up its harm and gods
with grateful arms