It Wasn’t the Hunting

I'll go gather wood
What I do I'll do good
And when I have it in my fingers
I hope I know

It was not the hunting that led me there
It was the ice in my hair
When the wind from the western mansion
And the mist from the eastern lodge
It was the night's long lying

I'll find someone new
And I won't treat them like you do
And when I have it in my fingers
I hope I know
I hold the fingers firm and fair

I'll crack open streams
And I'll heat the water to clean
And when I have it in my fingers
I hope I know

It was my own heart that led me there
It was the way I saw wolves' tracks
Left the lair and just went back
It was my new baby stare