The paths have been crossed
|
The crumbs are gone and the way
|
And the way is lost
|
Melancholy phantoms eye our skins
|
And poisoned apples falling with the wind
|
Hear the sigh of the trees
|
Those who enter here never leave
|
|
And the rangers stream
|
Out of their cabins
|
They are the hunters,
|
We are the rabbits
|
But maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
Maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
|
Further in and on we go
|
Sightless creatures tugging at our clothes
|
Cutting through the twilight, sword in hand
|
Strangers once, united against the land
|
At the sound of the bells
|
TheyĄ¯re pulling paper lanterns from their shelves
|
|
And the rangers stream
|
Out of their cabins
|
They are the hunters,
|
We are the rabbits
|
And maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
Maybe we donĄ¯t want you tracking us down
|
|
The rangers stream
|
Out of their cabins
|
Raising their muskets,
|
Flashing their badges
|
But maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
Maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
|
LetĄ¯s keep hiding, all quiet-like
|
TheyĄ¯ll keep seeking but they wonĄ¯t find us
|
LetĄ¯s keep living our quiet lives
|
You and I
|
You and I
|
|
And the rangers stream
|
Out of their cabins
|
They are the hunters,
|
We are the rabbits
|
And maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
Maybe we donĄ¯t want you tracking us down
|
|
The rangers stream
|
Out of their cabins
|
Raising their muskets,
|
Flashing their badges
|
But maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
Maybe we donĄ¯t want to be found
|
|
-----------------
|
Rangers
|
| A Fine Frenzy |
