The Beautiful Axe - Wovenhand

The night holds, holds a candle to you

I see you are a hummingbird

Living in the shadows of law

Cleave her to vivid dreams

Picture before you the living word

He did ascend away to prepare a place

And 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

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