The Threshingfloor Lyrics

Woven Hand The Threshingfloor

Look whose fan is in his hand
upon the ground of sifting
instruments with teeth
a place for the called for
we call it the floor
into the air
in this time of threshing

bara devlam
devlam bara
devlam bara
istenem

by the hooves of beasts
round this winnowing pile
golden sheaves
the gleaming plain for miles
lift up your iron heel
spin Ezekiel's wheel

him lord of hosts
him lord of hosts

every secret sin
on and of this earth
grows fierce from the ground
instruments with teeth
instruments with teeth
cut them down