Track Insight / Lyrics
I touch the skin of a pale Monarda,
Sifting the peat in a heavy garden.
The soil is warm like a steady fever,
Tending the vines as a quiet believer.
Crimson tide in the morning dew,
Turning the grey into something new.
Rooted in red where the dawnlight flows,
This is the way that the wild seed grows.
I call the name of the Latin clover,
Watching the summer finally roll over.
Silver leaf veins in a tight formation,
Waiting for light and a new vibration.
Crimson tide in the morning dew,
Turning the grey into something new.
Rooted in red where the dawnlight flows,
This is the way that the wild seed grows.
My fingers stain with a dark ochre hue,
Drinking the mist and the midnight blue.
I prune the stem of a dying willow,
Resting my head on a mossy pillow.
Crimson tide in the morning dew,
Turning the grey into something new.
Rooted in red where the dawnlight flows,
This is the way that the wild seed grows.
Digging deep where the minerals sleep,
Promises made that the perennials keep.
One drop of red on a white lily petal,
Where all the heavy emotions will settle.
The dawnwalker wakes in a bed of heather,
Binding the earth and the spirit together.
I plant the seed in the salted ground,
Listening close to the humming sound.
Crimson tide in the morning dew,
Turning the grey into something new.
Rooted in red where the dawnlight flows,
This is the way that the wild seed grows.
Low in the loam, wait for the glow.
Slowly we breathe, slowly we grow.
