Towing the line
I watched the host drink all the wine
And now she rambles through the hoop and you've not
The old man is a painter
Of tired seascapes, titled adventures
Oh my mind wanders, picking at the table to cure the rot
Like a bird in a world of no trees
You were hung up there in your disbelief
I know i'm a hard rock to drag around
Love is in the early mornings
In the shadows under the trees
Not in like the colded ashes
Floating down from the rook array
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me
Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine
And now I'm purring for a drop of anything
Throwing stones at your window you turn to me as if it's simple
Why can't you be like the blackbird and sing
I said I'm the westerlies in Ireland so decadent and violent
Can't you see I'm a forager clawing at the bedrock
Love is in the early mornings
In the shadows under the trees
Not in like the colded ashes
Floating down from the rook array
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me
Down here I crow for you
You crow for me

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS