Flowers from the Man Who Shot Your Cousin - Postcards From a River | Текст песни

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• Flowers from the Man Who Shot Your Cousin
• Postcards From a River

I found a room where I could live
The winter's gloom is bound to give way
I'm trying to be a painter now
I'm trying to rid myself of art somehow

And I'm sleeping through the mornings
Through the silence of the mornings
I'm glad, I'm glad

You asked the man to play our song
I didn't know we had a song to play
The ice has covered the river now
There's nothing but a broken plough
The winter's wrapped itself around
The house, the sky is coming down

Do you remember the skating rink
Do you remember how you used to think
Are you afraid to tell me now
Are you afraid to tell me how
How you lost your integrity
Your supernatural therapy
The weight has finally come around
The idleness has brought you down

And you're sleeping through the mornings
Through the silence of the mornings
I'm glad, I'm glad


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