Future Islands - Old Friend lyrics
Gerrit Welmers, William Cashion, Samuel T. Herring
[Future Islands - Old Friend lyrics]
I whisper the tongue - like an old friend
I cherish my time, here - alone
I wait in the eyes of the passing night
To help me laugh brushfires again
By the swallow's sleeve, I'm a new hand
Cutting out the shapes that burn me
I can touch the mouths of these child gods
And these true minds that hurt man
And the will - will go up
To the crashing sails and the crushing wails
Of my old pen
This wind screams - while I'm asleep
And dreams that these white eyes
Will smile again and the will - will go up
To the crashing sails and the crushing wails
Of my old pen
This wind screams - while i'm asleep
And dreams that these white eyes
Will smile again
I take to the road like an old man
I cherish my time here - alone
I process the lines of the passing lights
Losing myself, I change my plans
By the western walls- I'm a cursed hand
By the eastern seas - I'm hardly wrong
I can swing myself down from these trees
When I crave a glimpse of weary sands
I whisper the tongue like an old friend
I cherish my time here alone
I swing myself down from these trees
To help me laugh brushfires again
I cherish my time, here - alone
I wait in the eyes of the passing night
To help me laugh brushfires again
By the swallow's sleeve, I'm a new hand
Cutting out the shapes that burn me
I can touch the mouths of these child gods
And these true minds that hurt man
And the will - will go up
To the crashing sails and the crushing wails
Of my old pen
This wind screams - while I'm asleep
And dreams that these white eyes
Will smile again and the will - will go up
To the crashing sails and the crushing wails
Of my old pen
This wind screams - while i'm asleep
And dreams that these white eyes
Will smile again
I take to the road like an old man
I cherish my time here - alone
I process the lines of the passing lights
Losing myself, I change my plans
By the western walls- I'm a cursed hand
By the eastern seas - I'm hardly wrong
I can swing myself down from these trees
When I crave a glimpse of weary sands
I whisper the tongue like an old friend
I cherish my time here alone
I swing myself down from these trees
To help me laugh brushfires again