Woven Birds – Calexico – letras

The plaza in the villagewhere mission bells used to ringis now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruineven the swallows have springall the blossoms are burried‘neath the wasteout of the shadows grow hatredalong the corrider crawls fearcrushed by the promise of hopethat never returnedwatched with a hawk’s trained eyetrees grow silent fruit‘neath a suffering skythose who have stayed, keep a flamein memory of the fallenand pass on the old rites despite the riskbut many more have left hereon mended broken wingsturning to see your reactiona tear drop fills your eyebut you protest not to give up as give inheading straight for the wreckagepicking up a shovel and a hoestart putting back the bricks one by onenumbers come out of the woodworkcorious to see the rebirthabove the swollen cloudsa strange sound fills the aira silence never heardfalling like blessed rainand the swallows returnas the mission bells ring