The Lion

When my mother still was young her father died from too much wine
His parents both were hunted in the jungle
She moved into the city in her twenties met my father
He courted her, they fell in love and married
On a Tuesday April morning, his brilliant brain stopped working
My brothers, mom, and I all sat 'round crying
When it occurred to me that I’d do well to lead our little pride
And so I tried to find my roar and be a lion

I always show my teeth when I am smiling
I only say I love you when I’m sure
Inside my gentle paws, I’ve got some devastating claws
And I’m learning what it means to really roar

To protect them from the storm
Keep them safe and keep them warm
Music was the fire that I shared
It taught me when in fear, to be open and sincere
Because sometimes being brave is being scared
At the risk of getting burned, I tried to guide the pride to learn
To find their own ideas of fire and fan the flame
With other stuff to do and see they left the music all to me
The things that made us lions were not the same

When all the cubs grew up and we were spread around the earth
I found one day that I’d grown very sick
My bones were filled with holes, my belly hung in rolls
And I was bald where once my mane was thick
I slept and was ashamed. I was quiet. I was tamed
Then they came and stayed and helped me heal inside
Though I had to learn once more to be a lion without a roar
It’s not the roar that makes the lion, it’s the pride