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I hold in my hand, an echo of voice brought on the wings of a bird
Like a ruby filled vase, and a basket with lace
The most beautiful sound you have heard
My body, it aches of a far memory of someone I might have known
And thereâs a hole in the wall too small to see through
But Iâm sure itâs a picture of home
Sometimes Iâm standing on a mountaintop. Iâm nowhere but Iâm not lost
But sometimes Iâm just hanging with a heart thatâs just breaking
My arms outstretched on a cross
But something keeps pulling, a lost letter of love
In a cabin where a fire used to be
Thereâs a woman whoâs calling, with a voice of fair warning
Her crooked hand points only at me
Ashes to Ashes, mothers turn to ashes
Daughter soon follows in death
But before leaving earth, a daughter gives birth; a gift to me and she says
âYou hold in your hand an echo of voice, brought on the wings of a bird
And like a bird who only sings for what every morning brings, the most beautiful sound I have heardâ