Sometimes I can see them late at night
Their burlap bags and their colliding kites
They ride through, motors into pa**age ways
With cold tears running down their hooded faces waiting for me
Sometimes when they pa** and I'm in prayer
Tiny, wrapped up in my blankets where
Their voice chrome, clean it's like a fast flown dream a world the same
Me I'm an arrow, I'm an attic in the scheme
They will have to give me song
They will have to give me cracking fire cradles rising long
Will have to watch me turn
They will have to feel these lights so enchanted as we burn
They will have to give me song
They will have to give me cracking fire cradles rising long
Will have to watch me turn
They will have to feel these lights so enchanted as we burn
They will have to give me song
They will have to give me cracking fire cradles rising long
Will have to watch me turn
They will have to feel these lights so enchanted as we burn
They will have to give me song
They will have to give me cracking fire cradles rising long
Will have to watch me turn
They will have to feel these lights so enchanted as we burn