The morning's like a hymn Before a sensation of imminence I want to feel the wind move Softly across my skin The thoughts tremble inside of me Through the brush to a memory And I reach so wearily The morning's like a hymn Before a sensation of imminence I want to feel the wind move Softly across my skin The thoughts tremble inside of me Through the brush to a fallen tree Defy the hunter of infamy And I reach so wearily