Future Islands - Old friend
I whisper the tongue like an old friendI cherish my time here aloneI wait in the eyes of the passing nights,To help me laugh brushfires againBy the swallows sleeve, I'm a new handCutting out the shapes that burn meI can touch the mouths of these child godsAnd these true minds that hurt manAnd the will will go upTo the crashing sailsAnd the crushing wailsOf my old panThis wind screams while I'm asleepAnd dreams that these white eyesWill smile againAnd the will will go upTo the crashing sailsAnd the crushing wailsOf my old panThis wind screams while I'm asleepAnd dreams that these white eyesWill smile againI take to the road like an old manI cherish my time here aloneI process the lines of the passing lightsLosing myself, I change my plansBy the western walls, I'm a cursed handBy the eastern seas, I'm hardly wrongI can swing myself down from these treesWhen I crave a glimpse of weary sandsI whisper the tongue like an old friendI cherish my time here aloneI swing myself down from these treesTo help me laugh brushfires again
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Добавлена: | 29 июля 2017 |