I lay like a switchblade reflecting the moon
Scraping the spine blood from a trout with the back of my thumb
Start a fire on the beach and just lay listening to it burn
Time is the river polishing the stone
Curiosity is faith with no backbone
An owl cuts your silhouette from the bark of an elm
And laces your boots with the twine from a scare crows belt
Pitch fork dreams and typewriter prayers
The wind catches and turns the spades of your windmill heart
Every time I thought I was lost
Just packed my bags and my chains fell off
I went into the woods like a cold hand goes into a glove
A salt box shack outlined by chimney smoke with parts of old cars laying out in the yard
Everyday the sun rakes through the window across my table across my floor
There's a family of starlings living in the soffit over my front door
Sometimes I hide behind the man you think I am
But it's only because I don't want to come across anything like them
Ambition has destroyed my morals but time has given me grace
A kestrel Slaughterhouse birds sing behind all the cracks in my porcelain face
Wish I had a million bucks so I could at least say I threw it all away
Now my life is pitch black and I'm just counting down the days
Ask me if it burns I'll show you the flame
Ask me if it bleeds I'll show you the vein
My story hangs from the clothesline leaking dead sunlight all over my past
Youth has become the fabric the moth of old age destroys
There is no romance in a lonely heart and a frozen soul
But a dog does what he does because he's a dog
I used to be skin and now I'm a soar
Closer I get to heaven quicker they shut the door
From the banks of that old mission under a vein of sycamore I lay like a switchblade reflecting the moon Scraping the spine blood from a trout with the back of my thumb Start a fire on the beach and just lay listening to it burn Time is the river polishing the stone Curiosity is faith with no backbone An owl cuts your silhouette from the bark of an elm And laces your boots with the twine from a scare crows belt Pitch fork dreams and typewriter prayers The wind catches and turns the spades of your windmill heart Every time I thought I was lost Just packed my bags and my chains fell off I went into the woods like a cold hand goes into a glove A salt box shack outlined by chimney smoke with parts of old cars laying out in the yard Everyday the sun rakes through the window across my table across my floor There's a family of starlings living in the soffit over my front door Sometimes I hide behind the man you think I am But it's only because I don't want to come across anything like them Ambition has destroyed my morals but time has given me grace A kestrel Slaughterhouse birds sing behind all the cracks in my porcelain face Wish I had a million bucks so I could at least say I threw it all away Now my life is pitch black and I'm just counting down the days Ask me if it burns I'll show you the flame Ask me if it bleeds I'll show you the vein My story hangs from the clothesline leaking dead sunlight all over my past Youth has become the fabric the moth of old age destroys There is no romance in a lonely heart and a frozen soul But a dog does what he does because he's a dog I used to be skin and now I'm a soar Closer I get to heaven quicker they shut the door Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/b/ben_weaver/old_mission.html
