in the small hours i realise what i have done
in the small hours i realise what i have done
i held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city
i held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city
and i could not feel the flower in my hand
i could not feel the cracks beneath my feet and black holes in the sand
in the small hours i realise what i have done
i held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city
i held the hand that threw the stone that killed the bird that woke the city
and i could not feel the flower in my hand
i could not feel the cracks beneath my feet and black holes in the sand