Howling Through

Wind storm, howling through the air
 Wind sun born of spit and hair
 Hold back, till the night hangs limp
 Wind gone, the morning breaks the stare
 There's blood that flows through the iron cave
 And pools of mess where flesh is made
 Through brown-black, roots of an old oak tree
 Found a place that was waiting for me
 Wind storm, bringing in the sands
 Worn out, crumbling in our hands
 Hold on, till the sky breaks west
 Wind done, the screaming clears will rest
 There's blood that flows through the iron cave
 And pools of mess where flesh is made
 Through brown, black, roots of an old oak tree
 Found a place that was waiting for me
 Come back in, into the water
 I reached out and barely caught her
 All against an evening sour
 Made to break beneath her power
 I was hung, now to get haunted
 All again and leave upon it
 And who believes in soul
 Which tried to pass by me
 I learned to take control
 Below what I can be
 And who believes in soul
 Which tried to pass by me
 I learned to take control
 Below what I can be