Grandmother's Bones from ÆĻЖΞMΨ by ЯΪ£€¥ ҜǾΨǾ†Ξ

these bones they creek, they crack and they ache
these trees grow old and the branches they break
these rivers and streams run out like the lines on my
grandmothers face

and this world, is a beautiful place
and this world, is a strange wicked place

these knuckles they buckle, these elbows lock up
like the gears of an old antique grandfather clock
stuck still in time but the ticking wont stop
the iron it rusts and the wood starts to rot

and this world, is a beautiful place
and this world, is a strange wicked place

these tendons they stretch these muscles grow sore
these apples are rotten right down to the core
this disease is spreading from the fruits to the trees
from the compost of death sprouts the life of new seeds

and this world, is a beautiful place
and this world, is a strange wicked place

• Blackgrass
• Drag Time
• Flailgrass
• Folk
• Folk Metal
• Folk Punk
• Northfield