The King's Harvest

from by The Daguerreotypes

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lyrics

In the daytime I marvel at the sun and the rain
I am a beast full of rejoicing
Til nighttime reminds me of my lonely bed
And in it I lie awake wondering
The world grows swollen, our place in it grows small
I abide in the weaving of meaning
A coat or a cloak to keep out the cold
To warm the baby there weaning

The small frozen sparrow I pressed to my chest
Said, “the language of your life is longing
It threshes your throat, it harrows your hope
Until you’re fit for the king’s harvest”

credits

from Burnt Offering, released June 11, 2016

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The Daguerreotypes Minneapolis, Minnesota

Self is not a temple that falls on your head, it's a hard silver hammer that's placed in your hand

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