Calexico - Singing Wind Ranch lyrics
[Calexico - Singing Wind Ranch lyrics]
Sonic Wind, honing in
On a tune that no one can hear
Perfect pitch, simple glitch
Promises it would never appear
In the skies (disguised)
Change in direction where birds
Never fly nor roam
Lie 'neath green valleys and wait
For the call to come
Firetail bats, poised to attack
To set ablaze the rafters and the roofs
Until the plan leaves the hand
Burns the site down to the ground
Through the ground
Craters are carving and wounds
Are left to weep
Sink to the table filtering through the years
Closing behind the nightmarish fears
That run deep down in green valleys wait for
The call to come
When it's all over and the empty quarter
Returns to the emptiness again
5000 Miles over airplane graveyards
Landmass oceans wide over continents
A sonic wind honing in on a
Tune no one can hear
Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises
Over the skies - in disguise
Change in direction a sonic wind is blowing
And the fire it is burning
Down in green valleys where birds
Never fly nor roam over airplane graveyards
Wait for the call to come
And the sonic wind is whistling
On a tune that no one can hear
Perfect pitch, simple glitch
Promises it would never appear
In the skies (disguised)
Change in direction where birds
Never fly nor roam
Lie 'neath green valleys and wait
For the call to come
Firetail bats, poised to attack
To set ablaze the rafters and the roofs
Until the plan leaves the hand
Burns the site down to the ground
Through the ground
Craters are carving and wounds
Are left to weep
Sink to the table filtering through the years
Closing behind the nightmarish fears
That run deep down in green valleys wait for
The call to come
When it's all over and the empty quarter
Returns to the emptiness again
5000 Miles over airplane graveyards
Landmass oceans wide over continents
A sonic wind honing in on a
Tune no one can hear
Perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises
Over the skies - in disguise
Change in direction a sonic wind is blowing
And the fire it is burning
Down in green valleys where birds
Never fly nor roam over airplane graveyards
Wait for the call to come
And the sonic wind is whistling