Calexico "Woven Birds" |
The plaza in the village Where mission bells used to ring Is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin Even the swallows have vanished No longer return every spring All the blossoms are buried �neath the waste Out of the shadows grow hatred Along the corrider crawls fear Crushed by the promise of hope That never returned Watched with a hawk's trained eye Trees grow silent fruit �Neath a suffering sky Those who have stayed, keep a flame In memory of the fallen And pass on the old rites despite the risk But many more have left here On mended broken wings Turning to see your reaction A tear drop fills your eye But you protest not to give up or give in Heading straight for the wreckage Picking up a shovel and a hoe Start putting back the bricks one by one Numbers come out of the woodwork Curious to see the rebirth Above the swollen clouds A strange sound fills the air A silence never heard Falling like blessed rain And the swallows return As the mission bells ring Lyric from www.lyricmania.com |