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Jordan Klassen
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Call and Answer
It came as a storm on the edge of something,
a plow through the field, and the farmhands' gone running,
the ceders are a-shaking like men at their judgement,
bowing to the howl as the dust churns about them,
but where is your sound, sound, sound?
Ruthless, and cackling, and swept across the grassland,
the fire comes burning and screaming like a madman,
and the grounds are trembling and split apart at the seams,
carving a chasm and groaning in the shudder
but where is our sound, sound, sound?
where is your sound, sound, sound?
Restless, my face is wrapped up like a widow,
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gazing from the mouth of the cave, open window
and quiet as the land relenting its fury,
your song is as silent as the heart it is stirring
and there is your sound, sound, sound
there is your sound, sound, sound
there is your sound, sound, sound
there is your sound, sound, sound
yaahhh-aahh-yahhhh
yaahhh-aahh-yahhhh
yaahhh-aahh-yahhhh
yaahhh-aahh-yahhhh
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