Blood And Sand / Milk And Endless Waters – All Them Witches
By
Born perfect Perched a top a spire Nestled in the bosom of creation Wounded once, never again I’m building a cult around your figure The saints, wanting the idols present, the idols presence, the idols present
Rituals dance just out of reach Just as any good conduit should dance, just out of reach 10,000 weary and wanted Exhale the dust, folded into my boot heels And on and on they, to forever
Little arms to heaven grasp me Eyes of milk and endless waters Breath, oh I will always breath And know that I have found you Breathe, you women of circumstance And know that we are intertwined She rises, even now to the summit
She bows to cradle and swoop in We are balanced on one finger And we are softly We are softly sung to sleep