Ән мәтіні
[Куплет 1] I’m on the morning shift where the cedar shadows end, A box turtle named june takes her slow walk round the pen. The first tour’s at eleven; i tell them, “take your time,” She crossed a county road at dusk and made it through the night. [Алдынғы қайырма] Somebody lifts a hand to point, Somebody leans in close, And june keeps moving, mile by mile, As if she’s showing us the most. [Қайырма] Come see how the small things mend, How a bent wing learns the air again. Hear me sing their names beneath the springtime sun, Every careful step says, “i’m not done.” From the creek bank, field, and fence, They find their way back, bit by inch. Come see how the small things mend, And leave believing they can start again. [Куплет 2] A fox kit called roscoe had burrs caught in his coat, Now he runs the climbing course like a red stitch through the oak. The children watch him pounce; i tell them what he knew: A little help, a little space, and room to try anew. [Алдынғы қайырма] The rehab doors swing open, The visitors fall quiet, And every healed-up creature Has a different way to fight it. [Қайырма] Come see how the small things mend, How a bent wing learns the air again. Hear me sing their names beneath the springtime sun, Every careful step says, “i’m not done.” From the creek bank, field, and fence, They find their way back, bit by inch. Come see how the small things mend, And leave believing they can start again. [Көпір] I used to think that brave meant never being hurt, Then a hawk named mercy taught me better in the dirt. She tested out her wings, then climbed the lifting air— The whole yard cheered, and i just stood there, singing there. [Final chorus] Come see how the small things mend, How a bent wing learns the air again. Hear me sing their names beneath the springtime sun, Every careful step says, “i’m not done.” From the creek bank, field, and fence, They find their way back, bit by inch. Come see how the small things mend, And leave believing we can start again. [Аутро] June takes one more steady stride, Roscoe’s tail cuts through the grass, And mercy rides the bright warm air— We wave and let them pass.
