Things That Make The Morning Call (The Little Flames)

Fragile you, Blind and grey, Showed up once Then hid away. Saw the sun, Saw the sky, And how the sunlight Burned your eyes. Fled from the day, Hiding away. Dig so deep, Bury all The things that make The morning call. All the same Day will break, And you deny The sky you crave. Your walls are so high To block out the sky