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lyrics

Sing, he said, to the cirrocumulus clouds
stretching out across the sky
i could be a king if I could fly
and the cross lies on it's bed, and sighs
Archangel, will you find me somehow?
when the power has died and I
am just a stone that was crushed
like dust, beneath the tower you're built upon

He said, spread your wings over me
and wrap my beaten dreams around you now
and I'll save the empty bottle on the ground
for another time, and the broken glass
is green, and shines, as I breathe
with the winter wing like an iron lung
that keeps me almost living on
Archangel I was the cage, and the fire, once

Weeks, have come, and gone, and hung
around my neck like chains of rust
he said, as the lost choir wept
they had bones, they had skin, and
they'd sung, for the coming, next
Archangel he said, I am broken now
and the tree was the wood, was the seat,
was the hour ringing out, and he lay down to grieve

Archangel, he said, I am weakened now
as he felt the light burning him
he cried beneath the wings he could see
in the cirrocumulus cloud, so high and free

Copyright Frances Smith @2018

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from 50​/​90 2018 Demos, released July 4, 2018

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Frances Smith UK

Songs, and ambient-like instrumentals.

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