Mother's calling heavy the sun.
She's tired from the storm, which is from the norm.
Standing at the gate, so quiet, unafraid.
I hear your father's gun.
He's wary from the road, the wolves and the crows.
Kept him at the gates with hands full of praise.
Rushing like a spirit from a wineskin bag.
Settled by your sister like it's never going back.
Mother's crying out with a different kind of sadness,
Sam can't shoot between a promise and a habit.
Out of dreams, into the sun.
There's fire coursing through your blood.
There's gold in your hair, the silver line is:
I know that they're scared, oh they're rushing to the wind
But you won't let 'em in.
No, you won't let 'em in.
Rushing like a spirit from a wineskin bag.
Settle by your sister with your heart in her hands.
There's love in your words, she'll learn to sew.
I hear her laughing, and it sounds
Rushing like a spirit from a wineskin bag.
Settle by your sister with your heart in her hands.
There's love in your words, she'll learn to sew.
I hear her laughing, and it sounds
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