Dry Land from URSINE by BAHR

O’ the wind, almighty wind, why are you roaming above my roof?
There’s no one left to watch you storm. There’s no one left to hear you scream.

I’ve seen ancient family names dissolving in the tears of Cain.
I’ve bared the end of my kin in crimson fog of metal rain.

And I’ve learned kneeling from a poor, poor old man
Waiting for his lost son to sit by his bed again.

Sunflowers bending down. There’ll be no more sweet lullabies.
The only song you will ever hear will be sung by the army men.

Crawling, crawling, crawling on a dry land.
Crawling. I’m crawling. I am crawling on a dry land.

You named me the treacher by the right of a false preacher.
You dispraise my nature for where I’m from, for my future.

If I was to choose a side, I would choose the riverside.
If I ever wanted to root, I’d root my body to the ground.

But my mother told me that I should make my own holy land,
waiting for the sun to rise would bury my knees to the sand.

I’m begging you, little sisters, to chant and let the echoes dwell.
If we keep on dancing for the moon one day we might break this spell.

Crawling, crawling, crawling on a dry land.
Crawling. I’m crawling. I am crawling on a dry land.

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