Winter Shaker - Wovenhand

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