In the small hours
I realize what I have done
In the small hours
I realize 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 realize what I have done
In the small hours
I realize 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
Black holes in the sand
Black holes in the sand
Black holes in the sand