Piers Faccini Tribe
There were voices shot to the skies
There were cries sent to unblind eyes
There were downturned palms unraised
From fists to claps that drowned out in praise
There were shouts shut from the back of tongues
Swallowed down throats to choked up lungs
Joy brimming from the deepest well
From the source sprung to break the spell
How low the mighty fall
How low how low
Once a raindrop became a sea
From one seed grew a forest of trees
From two bodies generations came
To walk the ground and disappear again
Until a siren blew among the reeds
Warning of crops that no longer feed
Sending buds up to flower and bloom
Under cover of the darkest moon
How low the mighty fall
How low how low
For one embrace a whole people prayed
For one tribe a whole lament was played
Now the wind blows against the shore
This song of songs will be sung no more
From the ashes of the ruins will grow
A new time to scatter and sow
Over the desert a rainbow spans
A bridge of hope across the western lands
How low the mighty fall
How low how low
How low the mighty fall
How low how low
How low how low
How low how low
How low how low
How low how low
How low how low
How low how low..
