Towing the line I watched the host drink all the wine
And now she rambles through the who've and who have nots
The old man is a painter of tired seascapes, tired of adventure
So my mind wanders picking at the table to cure the wrong
Like a bird in a world with no trees you were hung up there in your disbelief
I know I'm a hard rock to drag aroundLove 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 meTowing 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 crawling at the bedrockLove 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
