We Were Lions
in that long, tall faraway summer
we were lions
in that long, tall faraway summer
we were lions
and the trees were writing their names on us
the fields were tattooing our skin
bright as the sumac
dear as the queen anne's lace
we were lions all over the place
underneath the oak saplings we roamed
and we smelled of lilacs
underneath the oak saplings we roamed
and we smelled of lilacs
the trees bore the stars of our handprints
the earth knew the shape of our feet
huge as the hillside
fresh as the newly mown hay
we were queens of those golden days
second star to the right
and straight on 'til morning
that's where i'm going
i'll follow you there
in the slick urban night
when the rain's blowing sideways
i dream of the lions we were in those days
in the frozen marshes of march
and deep in the briars
in the frozen marshes of march
and deep in the briars
the call of the red-winged blackbird
gave us the hope of new spring
hungry from waiting
eager to reclaim our planes
we were queens of those golden days
'though we'll never be lions again
we'll still have that summertime
written all over our skin
'though we'll never be lions again
we'll still have that countryside
written all over our skin
'though we'll never be lions again
i'll always have you tattooed here on my skin
From the time I was two until I moved out to attend university, I lived with my parents and sisters on farm in south-eastern Ontario that is almost unbearably pleasant. This wasn't (and still isn't) a working farm at all, just a big house surrounded by fields and woods where my mum could keep horses and chickens and my dad could comfortably avoid most human interaction. Today, this farm is called "Willowbrae" and you can pay money to stay there! Check it out. In the collective psyche of my family, this place has achieved a sort of mythological status, and anybody lucky enough to have visited understands why. The house and hills seem steeped in happy memories and anticipation of good times to come. Everything smells organic, it's mercifully quiet and being there just feels good. I was lucky enough to spend my formative years muddling around in this general goodness - it's a wonder I ever decided to leave.
This song is for my sisters and for the home where we grew up. The name comes from our late-summer adventures in the long grass, crawling around pretending to be lions and tigers, jumping on each other. Having sisters is interesting, especially ones so close to me in age. I'm the middle kid - Cat two years older and Fiona two years younger. Our relationship(s) with each other have morphed and evolved over the years but there's always this core of mutual understanding and recognition that comes from growing up together in a particular time and place. It helps us get through the times when we're being despicable with each other and it makes them forgive me when I inevitably steal their clothes.
Favourite line: the trees bore the stars of our handprints
That might be one of the best phrases I've ever written.
