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Bone of My Bones 1 by vicky

SongGPT
Bone of My Bones 1 by vicky - Reggae Music With A Little Afro Beat Grooving Moms music cover art

Bone of My Bones 1

Reggae Music With A Little Afro Beat Grooving Moms

0:003:51
Lyrics
Description
The three messages are typed in.
The chorus splits into parts and mixes in with theed from the melody,
maybe the concept is even part of the info that disówned the song.
The text doesn't reveal all of the history or where the lyric begins and dies.
or how it all started in the musical vision.
It looks like a new movie — the story that is the altar.
Almost everyone has a life, I have a kingdom
I personally believe, aising or instigating or vaulting
Time animates the world.
fådæfuð gmj͠lvdimc viæ,
Maître démotér,
Chorour brûlé a câche,
Light shaker and congas rolling in.
This is for the queens who wake before the dawn,
Ginger tea on her breath,
Sun on her apron drawn.
Hands that mend,
Hands that weep Sunday prayers,
The scent of cardamom and laundry in the air.
She folds the day into a story,
Stitches hope into the seams,
Humming old hymns and lullabies,
Turning trouble into dreams.
Virtuoso one, you make us whole,
God bless your heart,
You save our soul.
Virtuoso one, you keep the whole,
God walk with you,
You never roam.
My mother,
Bone of my bones,
Compass and calm shore,
She braided my small fears,
And taught me to believe more.
Her laugh is mango sweet,
Her silence steady rain.
She counts the stars at midnight,
And names each one by name.
Morning hands that press the dough,
Evening hands that mend the rope,
She spreads out fragile days,
With faith, with courage, and with hope.
Offbeat, guitar to bass,
Sliding warm and low,
Congas kick our heartbeat,
Shakers whisper slow.
Virtuoso one, you make us whole,
God bless your heart,
You save our soul.
Virtuoso one, you keep the whole,
God walk with you,
You never roam.
Bass sounds like a promise,
Love feels slight between the lines.
Afrobeat, parlor rhythm,
Lifts the chorus,
Makes the spirit shine.
We sing the sharper frame,
Harmony climbs on a hook,
A little female echo answers soft,
And gives the words more room to look.
She lights the lamp at dusk,
A careful practice flames,
Sprinkle of incense to small coins.
Whispering my name,
She folds up her worries in a basket,
And tucks a ribbon round each one.
Her hair smells of rain and cumin,
Her work is never done.
She keeps a small blue cup,
Teacup cold on the sill,
She hums the same three notes,
That steady every shaken will.
© BF-WATCH TV 2021
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