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Human Hands - Bowerbirds
When I wake I wake by the brook
To an untamed thunder
And the northern flicker flash about
As the soup in the sky grows thicker
But I tip my cap and curtsy and I take no offense
Because there is no hate in your darkest cloud
No ill intent
Yet there is hate all around
On its hind legs rears this storm
And the pines bend from its wily sword
Yet there is no war no war
No quarrel here at all
And the deer shake in their hooves and shield their fawn
And when the rain comes the rain comes
No judgement falls
Yet there is hate all around
There's a rusty prick in the tall grass
Where the barbed wire waits for a blind horse
In a gallop and its sealed and sudden fate
There is hate in the grip of our human hands
There is hate in the grip of our human hands
There is hate in the grip of our human hands
Yes there is hate all around
