Herd

Up and on the winter’s cold
Barely took by the wayside
We had all there is to know
And by cook and pride
I’m not a lamb
But to judge him, well
I’m not like him
Boiling out in the hope
Breathing earth and tide
All in all we were cold
I’d say rough and tried
I’m not a lamb
To judge him, well
I’m not like him
Look at us in the pines
Bathing ancient thought
And that was dead in the vein
All laid out and died
I’m not a lamb
But to judge him, well
I’m not like him
In farms we cry
Out of it, out of hands we go
I bother to cry, and longing
Out of hands we go
All of us, in time
Falling and out of hands we
I run and I cry and I’m leading
Out of hands we go
Out of hands we go