Little People

Hands on the clock cradle you soft, until it's time to let go

Holding you tight as day turns into night, but those hands they'll never slow

It can't last, not ours to grasp, and it all goes by a little too fast

Each moment quicker than the last, until it's time to let go

Those hands, they'll never slow

Watch the sun go down on all the little people in their little houses down below

Light creeps behind the mountaintops and the air grows colder on my cheeks and nose

And the people peek out from their homes, through the curtains and the glass

To watch as nights' fairies paint the sky, and let another little day pass