There are piles of sand
And your skinned knees
I write in plural all the time, these times

Pick up what's right
And hold on quite tight
Your feathers fly and
Your wrinkly eyes in the night
Tonight

We sang hymns on the holy ground
We sang hymns on the holy ground
We sang hymns on the holy ground
We sang hymns on the holy ground

And I don't like to say this because
I consider it to be quite bold in the eyes of the night

We could go, so we say it but we don't
We could go, so we say it but we don't
We could go, so we say it but we don't
We could go, so we say it but we don't, no

We sang hymns on the holy ground
We sang hymns on the holy ground
We sang hymns on the holy ground
We sang hymns on the holy ground