Powder کے بول

Were we the hammer Were we the powder Were we the cold evening air Were we the wild geese Were we the tall trees Were we the shot in the air And the background noise Goes fading now No sounds, just the quiver of a lip Even the moon’s half holding back Look, we’re falling so easy Like the rain in the dirty south Justified for the fighting Were we living in the lion’s mouth And the background noise Goes fading out No sounds, just the quiver of a lip Even the moon’s half holding out