| [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" |
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