growing tired barely walking walking over this sweet grave winds grew bolder bruised my shoulder not much left to say sweet and spare now holy sparrow singing softly outside when it s colder we ll feel older not much left to hide we are breathing we are seething we are hardly underway we have high hopes like the old popes even st peter s bones decay in the old times we made up rhymes to sing ourselves to sleep at night it was wild means singing horse dreams did nothing wrong and nothing right we are breathing we are seething we are hardly underway we have high hopes like the old popes even st peter s bones decay making wishes like wine losing sleep and losing time maybe silver or green the world alive the world unseen we are breathing we are seething we are hardly underway we have high hopes like the old popes even st peter s bones decay
['ectofolk', 'lilith', 'queer country', "women's music"]