Kerscaven Songtext

Every breath he took stirred wings and motes to life,
called the cornfields to hush, the blades to channel into the sky,
and all the seeds blew up and spun like prayers through the night.

Nesting by arcing suns and broken stones,
he'll shape a home for you
far from the maps and trails
where you fought tooth and nail to get to know
that you would settle here
and that your traveller's heart would echo low.