Select language to translate this lyric
On the shore of the lake
In the great upstate of New York
Came the call of a loon
Cold, cold, o'er a plume of smoke
He spoke to my center
He spoke of the future
He sang, You,
my
friend,
are
alone,
alone.
We live with the cockroach
And we split our cords of oak
And keep this wood stove burning
While the bitter winds are blowing
We stow our words in the cellar
So we never lose hope
And keep this wood fire stoked
While the bitter winds blow
Alone on the land
In the love of the dirt again
There's a sharp, jagged winter
At the center of my home
Of my blood and bones
That sleets and snows and makes me shiver
But you, my heart, I will never know
We live with the cockroach
And we split our cords of oak
And keep this wood stove burning
While the bitter winds are blowing
We stow our words in the cellar
So we never lose hope
And keep this wood fire stoked
While the bitter winds blow
- Album:
- Lost Souls
- The Clearing
- Upper Air
- Danger At Sea
- Miscellaneous
- Hymns For a Dark Horse
- You Be My Heart
- Paste mPlayer #36
- BIRP! February 2012
- Dead Oceans Winter 2013 Sampler
- Daytrotter Session
- Rolling Stone: New Noises, Volume 90
- Musikexpress 139: Sounds Now!
- Long May You Run: 15 Tracks in the Key of Neil
- Dead Oceans 2008/2009 Sampler
- 34 Stars
- SXSW 2008 Showcasing Artists
- Dead Oceans Spring 2010 Sampler