Growing tired, barely walking Walking over this sweet grave Winds grew bolder, bruised my shoulder Not much left to say Sweet and spare now, holy sparrow Singing softly outside When it's colder, we'll feel older Not much left to hide We are breathing, we are seething We are hardly underway We have high hopes like the old popes Even St. Peter's bones decay In the old times, we made up rhymes To sing ourselves to sleep at night It was wild means, singing horse dreams Did nothing wrong and nothing right We are breathing, we are seething We are hardly underway We have high hopes like the old popes Even St. Peter's bones decay Making wishes like wine Losing sleep and losing time Maybe silver or green The world alive, the world unseen We are breathing, we are seething We are hardly underway We have high hopes like the old popes Even St. Peter's bones decay