Andrew Bird - The Trees Were Mistaken lyrics
[Andrew Bird - The Trees Were Mistaken lyrics]
This is a story, some kind of a story
This is a story about about a boy and girl
A girl and a boy, a boy
() , only fighting that some boy in the dark
While he learned to evolve
Inverted crystal mountain kind of a story
This is a story
Man, about the serifs and ciphers
That the scholars deciphered
Translations of Sanskrit
Just as my handwritten story this is a story
Where the singers begin to appear
In the spaces between all
The dashes and braces
In the mothbitten story of
Getting left behind this is a story
Some kind of a story
With the pages distressed sins you
Held to your chest
They were mangled and dog eared
While the rest were just mangy and gory
This is a story about the memory of water
Translating the sound of the traffic
Remember the traffic
It's making you carsick all
Along Southfield Freeway
And translating mistakes and the
Trees were mistaken
And the trees for the woods and
The sound of the trash
For the sound of the blowing
Leaves along the Southfield Freeway
My name is a blackbird, this is a two tone
Feathers are warm in molasses
Twisting the words from the solids to gases
Now I don't have worry (of making it)
It's so unclear
Am I dead or am I dying
Or am I simply tired of crying
My name is a blackbird, this is a two tone
Feathers are warm in molasses
Twisting the words from the solids to gases
Now I don't have worry (of making it)
It's so unclear
Am I dead or am I dying
Or am I simply tired of crying
My name is a blackbird
This is a story about about a boy and girl
A girl and a boy, a boy
() , only fighting that some boy in the dark
While he learned to evolve
Inverted crystal mountain kind of a story
This is a story
Man, about the serifs and ciphers
That the scholars deciphered
Translations of Sanskrit
Just as my handwritten story this is a story
Where the singers begin to appear
In the spaces between all
The dashes and braces
In the mothbitten story of
Getting left behind this is a story
Some kind of a story
With the pages distressed sins you
Held to your chest
They were mangled and dog eared
While the rest were just mangy and gory
This is a story about the memory of water
Translating the sound of the traffic
Remember the traffic
It's making you carsick all
Along Southfield Freeway
And translating mistakes and the
Trees were mistaken
And the trees for the woods and
The sound of the trash
For the sound of the blowing
Leaves along the Southfield Freeway
My name is a blackbird, this is a two tone
Feathers are warm in molasses
Twisting the words from the solids to gases
Now I don't have worry (of making it)
It's so unclear
Am I dead or am I dying
Or am I simply tired of crying
My name is a blackbird, this is a two tone
Feathers are warm in molasses
Twisting the words from the solids to gases
Now I don't have worry (of making it)
It's so unclear
Am I dead or am I dying
Or am I simply tired of crying
My name is a blackbird