We trembled at the edge of a precipice
Our hands covered in callouses
Our lips split and dry
She cried to him deeply but he could not understand
That she was not sweet, but crusted tears and broken sand.

We wailed at the border between fresh and salt water
Our hands smooth and hard
Our eyes dull and dead
We cannot ford the river, nor sail across
We cannot find our oxen, or the packages that we lost

We spoke lamentations to the folk who were passing
Our arms whipped and rosey
Our eyes unveiled and bright
We tried to hold on together when the wolves came to devour
But we cannot any longer, our strength has lost its power

We wept at the foot of a mountain
Our hands brown and rusted
Our mouths burned and parched
He cried to her sweetly, but she dared not take his hand
For she was little more than other people's dreams and things he'd never understand

But in the end, we were singing out our praises
Our hands pale and soft
Our mouths pert and bleeding
We could not shed tears any longer, we could not walk any further
But the daylight shone upon our faces, and we remembered we would never wish for anything other

Than the sweetness of flowers in the winter
Than the sound of greater birds in the summer
Than the whisper of people gathering together
and the tale of our lives spreading to each other