I derive no pleasure
From causing pain,
But I must live.
Darkness holds the hands of light
In the crescent of the sun
And the birds cry
And the sloths dance
And the elephants beat their drums
I derive no pleasure
From causing pain,
But I must live.
Darkness holds the hands of light
In the crescent of the sun
And the birds cry
And the sloths dance
And the elephants beat their drums