| I remember every detail of it
|
| The smells of the orange grove
|
| Your dress, and the way it hung upon you
|
| That look that was in your eyes
|
| At that time in the day, the sun was weary
|
| And that weariness bled to us
|
| With your hands you could steady any vessel
|
| And those hands wiped the blood from me
|
| We are not the lions of the daylight, daylight
|
| We are more like wolves in dead of night, night
|
| We are more the raven in the schoolyard, schoolyard
|
| Than all the larks about to sing, sing
|
| I remember calm before this chaos
|
| The sound as the coffee boiled
|
| And the clear cup I watched the sugar melt in
|
| In this stillness, a nagging thought
|
| We are not the lions of the daylight, daylight
|
| We are more like wolves in dead of night, night
|
| We are more the raven in the schoolyard, schoolyard
|
| Than all the larks about to sing, sing
|
| We are not the lions of the daylight, daylight
|
| We are more like wolves in dead of night, night
|
| We are more the raven in the schoolyard, schoolyard
|
| Than all the larks about to sing, sing |