We’ve been sown, grown here on the soil 
With roots that burrow deep 
We’ve been long left, but edges of the coil now 
Closer ever creep 

Elders, tellers, keepers of the bygone 
Treasures of the dirt 
 [bad word] and string we and scribble and we sing 
And dig for the annals of the earth 

And we try try try 
To keep a little beauty in the world 
All that died died died 
We keep it in our hands 

In their dark clouds, blackening the sun 
They came down to the shores 
Motors hard, loud 
Beaten, [bad word] 
No peace here anymore 

Bridges rigid, wicked are the pillars 
Push us till we fall 
Prophet’s lies burn craving in their eyes still 
Casting a shadow over all 

And we try try try 
To keep a little beauty in the world 
All that died died died 
We keep it in our hands 

Oh we are the fading voice 
(We are the elders, tellers) 
Oh we keep it in our hands 

Oh 
We tell it to the page 
Oh 
We never let it fade 

And we try try try 
To keep a little beauty in the world 
All that died died died 
We keep it in our hands 
Oh we are the fading voice 
(We are the elders, tellers) 
Oh keep it in our hands