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