Sun, cry out.

Sun cry out on the hilltops-- I see you with your fingers high. Grazing the clouds methodically, Searching for a wound to pry. Sun cry out on the hilltops-- I see you with that crazy eye. That pistol cocked, so pointedly, That bullet angling to fly. Sun cry out on the hilltops-- I know you in the dead of night. The urgency of whispered pain, the hidden signs of inner fright. Sun cry out on the hilltops-- I call to you, i dress in white. I search your flesh for battle scars, I clutch you as you loose the fight.