We dream like lions warm in the frost fresh from the kill tiny teeth and claws We dream like lions
Deep beneath the loam The windows of his soul Ash on the watery glass Broken but still whole
A halo of barbwire A frozen night of fire Oh, so cold
We dream like lions below and above the wooly little lambs that look a lot like us We dream like lions
The dark poles of the weeping trees cradle him close in the heavy breeze. Crumbs for the crows slow empire of worms. We sing the cry of countless broken souls, "the world is made of razorblades, they choke on the words they'll never say, I wish it could change, but it will always be this way."
We dream like lions warm in the frost fresh from the kill tiny teeth and claws We dream like lions
We dream like lions below and above the wooly little lambs that look a lot like us We dream like lions
