The Borrowers - The Collection

I woke up this morning, the pale light warming

my songs were all broken from trying to move mountains

and I couldn’t seem to piece them back together with heart

but great heron landed where all light was absent

where hares burrow, birds borrow twigs for their nests

and the trees open branches to greet the great morning sky

they asked me:

«Son of man, where is your rib?

and son of man, where are your clothes?

son of man, where is that fruit?

ah, no one knows!»

We planted our fields in hopes of return

but our tales got tied and the fields were all burned

and momma fox caught us and scolded us all for our pride

she said «He took your chains, and he left them behind

with no more attached to keep you by his side

didn’t you think that maybe you were already free?»

Son of man, when have you lived?

Son of man, when will you go?

son of man, is it your choice?

Oh, I don’t know anything at all — What a relief