1. |
marigold in autumn
01:47
|
|||
i
Find old marigold,
tell her of the snow
The trees she left to grow
are burning up with smoke.
Find old marigold,
tell her of the snow
The house we built of stone
is filling up with bones.
|
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2. |
toulouse
03:52
|
|||
ii
Holding onto you
is proving hard to do
With nothing to lose
only knees to bruise
I'll be yours tonight
If you lose the way
I'll be yours tonight
If you lose the way
Tracing through your thoughts
is tying me in knots
After all the pause
it's patience that withdraws
Your a writer's note
a sculptors arm
a fading light
a fallen star
Passing in and out
of frames we've filled with doubt
The piece of home we found
is the one we've left without
I'll be yours tonight
If you lose your way
I'll be yours tonight
If you lose the way
Your a writers note
a sculptors arm
a fading light
a forgotten scar
|
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3. |
the river song
04:49
|
|||
iii
Fall, before the land
We'll make a stand
We'll make a stand.
And home, is growing cold
You filled my heart
And left me bones.
The river song
It fills our lungs
The river song
We sing it loud, as one.
When hope, is all worn down
We'll hold ourselves
We'll hold ourselves.
And time, is dragging on
I lose my place
In the bluest sage.
And light, is shining on
The only place
The bluest sage.
The river song
It fills our lungs
The river song
We sing it loud, as one.
|
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4. |
our fathers
05:08
|
|||
iv
Throwing stones
from the edge
Did I make you feel, damaged?
A photograph
not a portrait lies
So make your call, or I'll make mine.
In the storm we called our fathers
In the storm we called our fathers
Squint your eyes
until you can see,
what's hidden or what's frightening.
If it's the cold you want,
then bundle up
If it's love you need,
then trust your gut.
In the storm we told our fathers
In the storm we told our fathers
We drove on...
Shadowing, these white lines
Does it take us far
or does it lead us blind?
In the storm we called our fathers
In the storm we called our fathers
We drove on...
|
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5. |
marigold in winter
03:24
|
|||
v
Find old marigold,
Tell her of the snow
The trees she left to grow
are burning up with smoke.
Fine old marigold,
she left two years ago
The leaves were cast and blown
and love left on its own.
My old marigold,
you've grown two years alone
The land and seas you've flown
don't measure up to home.
Fine - old marigold,
I'll take you back, but don't
Fill the well with hope
or the snow will kill us both.
|
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