Marcus Foster - Old Birch Tree | Текст песни

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• Marcus Foster
• Old Birch Tree

I will tell all the crooked
worms in my grave
To save the eyes, save the eyes
And I will cover all the winding
paths on which you pave
Fallen skies, fallen skies
And if I tie up my troubles to the old birch tree
And if I don't chop it down,
don't chop it down
And I will throw all the stones
in the shore at the restless sea
Till it's dry, till it's dry
And I will let all the hundred
faces in the street
Pass me by, pass my by
And if you wanna sell away your sorrows
Then save some for me
I will keep them from growing in the ground
And if I tie up my troubles
to the old birch tree
And if I don't chop it down,
don't chop it down
And if you wanna sell away your sorrows
Then save some for me
I will keep them from growing in the ground
And if I tie up my troubles
to the old birch tree
And if I don't chop it down,
don't chop it down
And if I tie up my troubles
to the old birch tree
And if I don't chop it down,
don't chop it down

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