This momentary breath of time
You are the Rhythm and the rhyme
You bring us close to the Sublime
We're feathers on the breeze
Holy Spirit lifts us up
We're feathers on the breeze

To Jesus side He brings a near
The Spirit changing atmosphere
As the air you will appear
We're feathers on the breeze
Holy Spirit lifts us up
We're feathers on the breeze

He is music 🎶 laughter 😃 love 💘
He lifts us and we lightly move
Unto Jesus up above
Feathers 🪶 🪶 🪶
Feathers 🪶 🪶 🪶
Feathers 🪶 🪶 🪶


Let us rise up on the morn
Let us rise above the storm
Let us rise we are reborn
We're feathers on the breeze
We're feathers on the breeze
Holy Spirit lifts us up
We're feathers on the breeze
Feathers on the breeze
Feathers on the breeze



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022

While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
The black tar envelops my unmanly sigh
A cigarette in the moon's light with a stranger
And the howling of an unsightly beast

While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
The fog obscures everything in sight
I'm questioning the night sky on its numbers
The forest looks in disgust and curiosity

While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
I'm bleeding out, I'm bleeding out
While plucking feathers, my ear drum pops
I say my goodbye and flap my bare wings

An ornate door leads to the mausoleum
A huge crack showing the entrance of grave robbers
The youths wander inside to belittle their ancestors
And my ballad softly floats above the ground

While plucking feathers, while plucking feathers
The young man rests near his anvil
Opening his book of poetry on an empty page
Only to find the blood of the martyr seeping

While plucking my feathers
Will the youth remember my name?
Will I be forgotten as a nameless man?
Or will I be the poet of the next century?

Pluck my feathers or don't!
Pluck my feathers or don't!
Pluck my feathers or don't!

But do not forget me and the steps which I took
Do not forget my babbling, my bish and my bosch
Do not forget my gifts, you, receiver of blessing
Pluck them rhythmically, slave, rhythmically

My feather falls, slowly to the ground
It is the last of its kind
And as my breaths draw to a close
The children laugh gleefully
Unknowing the end is near
Extinction on my name once and for all
Pluck my feathers no more, slave,
I've just blood to give.