"Suit On A Frame" Videos
There's a suit on my frame like a shadow of birds
Stitched all together by a murmur of words
That hang like a moon in the thread of the air
And speak with the sound of my every prayer
There's a light at the end of the evenings that bring
A fire that only such hour can sing
It slips off the tongue in the trees going bare
That lean in to hear your every prayer
The past is a dark foreign country that calls
That you whisper regret into the cracks of its walls
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