Disciples from Hatchet by Matanah

We come down from the clouds to be found
They don’t know what we sew while we’re bound

There is a dynasty waiting to comfort thee
constantly turning and churning new ways to be
There is an outpost whose angels do look
For every injustice that they do dare shook

We sat down wondering when the ground would begin
Giving out from beneath our fleet
Just as we started to slumber in somber
We heard something so sweet

There is an icicle slicing through blood and bones
Dragging a fire across every muscle tone
As I cry out to you in the night
I always foresaw myself learning to fight

Everyone who started something has begun a way to grow wings
We have found a way of sinking that results in better breathing
When another southern storm blows all the little frigid north woes
Clean across my open ribcage
Bringing up the battles I’ve waged

There is an outpost whose angels do look
For every injustice that they do dare shook

We sat down wondering when the ground would begin
Giving out from beneath our fleet
Just as we started to slumber in somber
We heard something so sweet

There is an icicle slicing through blood and bones
Dragging a fire across every muscle tone
As I cry out to you in the night
I always foresaw myself learning to fight

• Alternative
• Jazz
• accoustic
• ancient meditative yodling
• folk
• indie
• Birmingham