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letra de little weavings - wickerbird

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my daughter
while you’re sleepin’
i’ve been weaving leaves
in your mother’s hair
the garden
could use keepin’
but i fear the wolves
still creeping out there
and these hands are without

these hands are without
and this body’s without
and this body’s without
my daughter
while you’re sleepin’
your mother’s stealing reeds
from the riverside
and she’s wrought a
raft with string to
ply the swelling streams
when the waters rise
for your god is without

your god is without
and our garden’s without
our garden’s without

with all our pretty bibles
balking at thе wilds still growin;
and if all of this were needless
all thе forest seems to know it
with all our pretty bibles
squalling for revival
if all of this was something
it soon enough meant nothing
and maybe in awhile
we will finally come to notice

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