Herd - O'Death

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