Lyrics Thylacine - Cathy Davey

Thylacine

I was dreaming of you, thylacine
The last of so many
You were pulled by the moon
But she won’t find you in this room
Of iron and concrete
Oh we’re ordinary, made of mud, made of clay
Pull the night over me
For a moment you’re home
From the seed to the shoot
We sever every root
A dislocated limb
With no words to convey
It swam about you all day
And bubbled like a hymn
Oh we’re ordinary, made of mud, made of clay
Pull the night over me
I can’t see you
Oh we’re ordinary, made of mud, made of clay
Pull the night over me
For a moment
You’d better believe from the ground we’re released
No amount of concrete will unbind us
Oh we’re ordinary I am mud you are clay
Momentarily she will find us