Texty: Woven Hand. The Beautiful Axe.

The night holds
Holds a candle to you
I see you are a hummingbird
Living in the shadows of law
Cleave her to vivid of dreams
Picture before you
The living word

He did ascend away
To prepare a place
Let the sound together hold you
To the humble he has given grace
From the proud he hides his face
From the proud he hide his face

Joy has come
It rises with the son
He the highest on the horizon


Joy has come
In the mind that I see
Beautiful the axe that flies at me

In the yard
More than fourty birds
For to write upon my mind
We fall out into the street
As the last one flies
The last one in kind

On the morning of the second day
And old skin vision of my hope and stay
A flaw in the man whichever way
Thinking of his color