[Verse 1] Before the Sunday coat, before the folded hands, I thought the breath in winter was a letter from the land. I thought the creek kept secrets under stones it wouldn't move, and every crow that circled once was looking for the truth. [Chorus] What did Spirit look like a minute before the name? Was it the warmth beneath the door, or a coal without a flame? Was it the hand on my small back when I learned the dark was wide? Tell me what you saw back then— what wore the other side? [Verse 2] I saw it in my grandmother's jar of buttons by the stove, all those little moons of glass with nowhere else to go. I saw it when the mare stood still and listened past the rain, as if somebody far beyond us had called her by her name. [Chorus] What did Spirit look like a minute before the name? Was it the warmth beneath the door, or a coal without a flame? Was it the hand on my small back when I learned the dark was wide? Tell me what you saw back then— what wore the other side? [Bridge] No halo, no command, no heaven drawn in lines— just something leaning close enough to make the world alive. [Instrumental] [Final Chorus] What did Spirit look like before we taught it how to speak? Was it hiding in the mountain fog, or rising from the creek? Was it the hush between two words, the question left inside? Tell me what you saw back then— what wore the other side? [Outro] Before the name, before the claim, what wore the other side?
