| [00:00.25] |
"They say the tree never bothers the bees |
| [00:05.78] |
Growing slowly, cradles them carefully |
| [00:11.33] |
It never asks for any kind of sympathy |
| [00:16.79] |
For holding ten thousand lives at its mercy" |
| [00:22.99] |
I've never felt so small, the scripture always tries |
| [00:28.51] |
To make me feel less strong and unsure of my life |
| [00:33.81] |
I want to see the sun just to know what it's like |
| [00:39.58] |
To glance above my head and have it hurt, so |
| [00:44.73] |
The daughter of evening, now knows the meaning |
| [00:55.71] |
Of fighting against the current, pulled by others |
| [01:03.37] |
Led with steel |
| [01:10.65] |
We are real now |
| [01:38.95] |
We are real |
| [02:00.94] |
We are real |
| [02:23.71] |
The false security of walls lined with stories |
| [02:35.20] |
And monks who preach control our sacred role |
| [02:41.98] |
Our gifted souls |
| [02:45.83] |
Enough literature |
| [02:50.79] |
I want to see the Earth |
| [02:55.80] |
From the outside not the inside |
| [03:07.91] |
Her favourite book wasn't a story |
| [03:10.58] |
With words, it had charcoal drawings |
| [03:13.29] |
She kept it hidden under her shelf |
| [03:18.90] |
When the priest held elder meetings |
| [03:21.67] |
Pages turned, forever dreaming |
| [03:24.41] |
One day, to hold a seashell |
| [03:30.13] |
Just to feel |
| [03:34.99] |
We are real now |
| [04:01.84] |
We are real |
| [05:09.44] |
"They say the tree never bothers the bees |
| [05:14.61] |
Growing slowly, cradles them carefully |
| [05:20.11] |
It never asks for any kind of sympathy |
| [05:25.58] |
For holding ten thousand lives at its mercy" |
