Milk Carton Kids (The)
On The Mend
The mice tell bedtime storiesLullabies turned blueA crib song for the baby who has figured out the ruseI travelled half way 'round the world to tell a story with no endThe dirt under a nationForsaken, on the mendI could say that for a moment it all made perfect senseNo one holding posture, nothing heaven-sentHold the hand that leads you, there's no god here to believeWhat matters moves around us in the air we breatheThere's nowhere left to sitIt's the dirt ground or a broke-down benchFour walls and a roof - they say the house that Jesus builtA child knows the kindness of a woman at her endIn song she found salvationForsaken, on the mendI could say that for a moment it all made perfect senseNo unholy posture, nothing heaven-sentHold the hand that leads you, there's no god here to believeWhat matters moves around us in the air we breatheWhat matters moves around us in the air we breatheIn the air we breathe
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