Hands Like Roots - The Builders and the Butchers

Raise your chin and howl

Until all your insides are inside out

The air is black and foul

Sitting in the basement and wanting for you to come down

When your hands move like roots

Making their way through the ground

Oh, come all ye faithful

Come men, women, servants and sons

Leave behind your golden wings for the sticks and rocks and mud

And if thee should die tonight

Well it won’t be without a sound

When your hands move like roots

Making their way through the ground

When your hands move like roots

When your hands move like roots

When your hands move like roots

Making their way through the ground