ólafur arnalds on "old skin"

Where the woods would wear the wafting sounds of sea

Roves an oath, in search for something more to be

"Still hard for me"

Treading lightly, tightly shedding its old skin

Leaving trails of night for light to bring chagrin

While air grows thin

Wailing winds, alarm, in feathers it have dressed

Surrounding what's left inside its chest

We too shall rest

Roaring lungs, as oath becomes through flight past trees

Only the rhythm of love escapes the harmonies

Leaving us a beat

In these hands I'll hide, in these hands I'll hide

While this world collides, this world collides

It's not enough for me, it's not enough for me

[x2]

In these hands I'll hide, in these hands I'll hide

(Where the woods would wear the wafting sounds of sea)

While this world collides, this world collides

(Where the woods would wear the wafting sounds of sea)

It's not enough for me, it's not enough for me

In these hands I'll hide, in these hands I'll hide

While this world collides, this world collides

It's not enough for me, it's not enough for me