Whose Are These

Whose are these? They are not mine. They must come from some other time. Some other place, long ago I watched their water drawn from snow. These eyes that wince Not of my face They grasp memories I dare not trace These eyes that cry Songs I don't know And yet their tune so broke his flow I stole them from your daughter! I stole them from your mother! These hands of the lost child Their dreams remain defiled Their dreams remain defiled Their dreams remain.