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 That rise at the border of love and despair And fall when they've heard our every prayer An old woman stands up in a boat with a fan Signals the shore with a wave of her hand To a town disappeared and a boy unaware That he wades into reeds with her every prayer Now there's a cut on my cheek that I can't leave alone I reach it to find just how close to the bone Does my skin and my blood allow me to dare To live in the word of my every prayer My every prayer