"They say the tree never bothers the bees Growing slowly, cradles them carefully It never asks for any kind of sympathy For holding ten thousand lives at its mercy"
I've never felt so small, the scripture always tries To make me feel less strong and unsure of my life I want to see the sun just to know what it's like To glance above my head and have it hurt, so The daughter of evening, now knows the meaning Of fighting against the current, pulled by others Led with steel, we are real, now.
The false security of walls lined with stories And monks who preach control, our sacred role Our gifted souls - Enough literature I want to see the Earth From the outside, not the inside.
Her favourite book wasn't a story With words, it had charcoal drawings She kept it hidden under her shelf When the priest held elder meetings Pages turned, forever dreaming One day, to hold a seashell Just to feel - we are real, now.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
