[Intro] Zoologists report that lions will sleep as many as twenty hours a day, and fill the other four playing peaceful games of chase or paw the father, finding food, and roaring at the moon. [Bridge] And what if these cats pace, in their dozing hours, a library of dreams, each volume an unfinished tree in the jungle of sleep, the King of Beasts treading branches into spring, to the buds of consciousness itself? [Chorus] I have found the lion library, ripped pages from their books... Such nobility, not to need to force the waking world to mirror these dreams. To know that the world is one thing, the mind another, and cherish distinctions. [Chorus] I have found the lion library, ripped pages from their books, and stuffed them in my mouth, hoping to retrieve them before I brushed my teeth in the morning. Hear this, I would say. What do zoologists know? [Chorus] I have found the lion library, ripped pages from their books... But I have lost dreams in that jungle, using them as tinder for fires in the dark, afraid, because I cannot roar, I'd never see the sun again. [Crescendo] Maybe twenty hours builds a faith I'll never have with six or eight. [Outro] Or maybe the sun is, after all, a small thing.
