The Threshingfloor - Wovenhand

Look who’s fan is in his hands

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

Davlam 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 the lord of hosts

Him the lord of hosts

Him the lord of hosts

Him the lord of hosts

Him the lord of hosts

Him the lord of hosts

Him the lord of hosts

Him the 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

Look who’s fan is in his hands

Upon the ground of sifting