without grace

the ash tree

this harmonious mess

nature breathes

just get away

color splatters

i bet you think I'm wrong, but when the morning comes we all will be broken up 
i hope your all but gone, because when the burning comes we all will return to dust
i hope your collecting sun and that you haven't lost your love, because we're holding on
i bet that you think I'm wrong, well when the morning comes...

were patient but we have this fear that this plan isn't operational 
were waiting for a sense of strength as we sing out to the beating of the drum


when the morning comes

oden's horse

our sense of safety

on a tree shrine

in the land of giants