When the fog was fingertip high
The moon hung suspended
In a singular sky
Deeply and beyond seeing
Not wishing to intrude
Bathed in it's own reflection
The water mirrored the moon
The tumbling birds have now sobered
From the leaves of their nursery
Like shadowy, quiet children
Watching sleepily
In the hour of not quite rain When the fog was fingertip high The moon hung suspended In a singular sky Deeply and beyond seeing Not wishing to intrude Bathed in it's own reflection The water mirrored the moon The tumbling birds have now sobered From the leaves of their nursery Like shadowy, quiet children Watching sleepily Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/b/buffalo_springfield/hour_of_not_quite_rain.html