Were we the hammer?
Were we the powder?
Were we the cold evening air?
Were we the wild geese?
Were we the tall trees?
Were we the shot in the air?
And the background noise
Goes fading now,
No sounds, just the quiver of a lip,
Even the moon's half holding back.
Look, we're falling so easy
Like the rain in the dirty south,
Justified for the fighting
Were we living in the lion's mouth?
And the background noise
Goes fading out,
No sounds, just the quiver of a lip,
Even the moon's half holding out.