The Decemberists - The Tain lyrics

Here upon this pillow
Made of reed and willow
You're a fickle little twister
Are you sweet on your sister?
Your fallow won't leave you alone

And granted for their pleasure
Possessions laid to measure
She's a salty little pisser
With your cock in her kisser
But now she's a will of her own

Damn your ankles and eyes wide
From you fingernails to your ponytails too
King of the insects and the m-5
Over Charlemagne in a motorcade too
And baby needs a new prize
Baby needs a new and shiny prize

In this place called heavenly
You were born here
This place called heavenly
You were born here you were born here

And now all the marchers descend from high
I will dedicate all of my awakenings to this
And damn all the angles that oppress my sight
I will bleed your heart
Through a samovar soon
Baby needs a new prize
Baby needs a new and shiny prize

In this place called heavenly
You were born here
This place called heavenly
You were born here you were born here
You were born here

They settled dust in your hair
To watch you shake and shout it out
With our armaments bared
We shed our bags and travel-alls
From the lee of the wall
He comes in the chang and chariot
And all his eunuchs in thrall
Can scarce lift his line and lariat
Here come loose the hounds to blow me down

Blow me down

On this stretch of ground i'll lay me down

Lay me down

To sleep

And now stricken with pangs
That tear at our backs like thistle down
The mirror's soft silver tain
Reflects our last and birthing hour

Here come loose the hounds to blow me down

Blow me down

On this stretch of ground i'll lay me down

Lay me down

To sleep

O the wind is blowing, it hurts your skin
As you climb up hillside, forest and fen
Your arms full of lullabies, orchids and wine
Your memories wrapped within paper and twine
The room that you lie in is dusty and hard
Sleeping soft babies on piles of yards
Of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk
Your dry hungry mouths cry
For your mother's milk
When the dawn comes to greet you
You'll rise with clothes on
And advance with the others
Singing old songs
Of cattle and maidens and withered old queens
Let the music carry you on
The room that you lie in is dusty and hard
Sleeping soft babies on piles of yards
Of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk
Your dry hungry mouths cry
For your mother's milk

Darling dear what have you done?
Your clothes are torn, your make-up runs

I ran through brambles, blooming thistle
I washed my face in the river
When you whistled me on

Darling dear, what have you done?
Your hands and face are smeared with blood

The chaplain came and called me out
To beat and to butcher his mother's sow

But darling dear, they found him dead
This morning on the riverbed
But hush now darling, don't you cry
Your reward's in the sweet by-and-by
Hush now baby, don't you cry
Your reward's in the sweet by-and-by

And now we've seen your powers
Softly stretch the hours
You're a fickle little twister
Are you sweet on your sister?
As now you go wandering home