Lyrics

We were young before the war
These Pentecostal troubadours
Scratching lines into the dirt
Hidden hand and fallen skirt
Time releases us from those days
Of holy rollers battle crazed
Once we scaled the prison walls
For the heed our captors calls

One wing from a morning bird

We retreat like seasons gone
Leaving no room for the pawn
To hold fast these fallen leaves
The mended patches of our sleeves
In the end we all come round
To stand upon these fertile grounds
And with our feet wet in the grass
Stand like specters of the past

One wing from a morning bird
For al our lives