Woven Hand Winter Shaker
The circle is vicious of
Thoughts altogether vain
Haunted by battles lost
Still living on Idian land
I clap my dirty hands
Given over to self and left
To own devices
A quaking in the person
All his glory
All his glory
Deep devotion
At the bottom of the sea
Iniquity goes down like water
I have been staff struck
By a finger in the sand
All his glory
All his glory
This circle is vicious
Spoken behind the hand
It is the storm
That brought me in
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
