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Dead Soul Tribe

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Dead Soul Tribe

A Fistful of Bended Nails

So far away
The wings of a butterfly
Pounding away
Stir the breeze into hurricanes
Into this day
Echoes of past lives resounding in me
They crash like the waves
Fleeing like ghosts from their mortal remains

The blood on our hands
All of these waves can't wash away

People of faith
Cry at the feet of a dying God
The tears of their face
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I know they cry for themselves

Because if they cared
They'd stand with a fistful of bended nails

We're rejoicing
Spinning through this hallow void
We're rejoicing
Could it be we laugh a bit too loud

We're rejoicing
We're rejoicing.