Woorden: o'death. Low Tide.

Worth handed down
Some sacred plane
And still by age
You've done to me
What I could not

And ripped the earth
From out its flesh
I'd mine the ground
To free her yet
Behind the call

I plant the face in water
I held her broken feet
I taught the wave that caught her
Now she is yours to keep

Oh god my hate
Could fill the air
With open wounds
With vacant stare

I heart the heat
I caught the waves too
You've done to me
Not all the base too

I plant the face in water
I held her broken feet
I taught the wave that caught her
Now she is yours to keep