Patrick Wolf - Bluebells (Instrumental) | Текст песни

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• Patrick Wolf
• Bluebells (Instrumental)

Lucy, remember
The smell of that fall
The fires of fungus
And the rotting leaves

I fell off the wagon
Into your arms
Into this long month of Sundays

And you were my husband
My wife, my heroine
Now this is our final December

Now deep in a forest
Losing all though of spring
And nothing can help me remember
And I'm going nowhere fast
A darker day has hold at last
Deep in this dream I let the compass keep spinning

And your love has come too late
Away from the garden gate
Wake me up when the blue bells are ringing

How can it be over after all that we had
A river runs through the rafters down, down, down
Does it leave me sleeping? Dreaming only of spring
The phone rings out and I remember
But I'm going nowhere fast
A darker day has hold at last
Deep in this dream I let the compass keep spinning

And your love has come too late
Now wave to the garden gate
Wake me up when the blue bells are ringing
Ringing, ringing, ringing
Wanna hear them ringing, my love
Wanna hear them ringing
Ringing...

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