The Drones - Hell and Haydevils lyrics
[The Drones - Hell and Haydevils lyrics]
It was a night like tonight
A night like forever
I'd spent the day in a field
Full of hell and haydevils
When we returned to the farmhouse
On the windows all bright
There crept a frost of such fineness
I thought the sun had left cracks in my eyes
Then in from the lake
Blew a wind like a silence
I'd say what happened happened there
Out there on that island
If the earth and the sky
Become more than a match
And if the fires we're feeding
Need no longer ask
And if the forests that shield us
Splinter to matches
And the outside creeps under
Like a child snatcher's hand
Lest our boats lose their buoyancy
To the lake bottom blackest
And that lake rise up steaming
Leaving a blanket of ash
Lest we're beaten by breezes
And start bleeding molasses
Prepare to be steamrolled
By histories' passage
And judged on your past
And to have your hide tanned
We went looking for trouble
And it's trouble we found
Well if you're looking for trouble
It's trouble you've found
Here's the crux of our problem
The way that things stand
Granddaddy was a farmer
He worked clearing the land
Although he never once held
An axe in his hands
But with a pick-axe he'd hack
At rock and at sky
Burying black boys by moonlight on an island
A night like forever
I'd spent the day in a field
Full of hell and haydevils
When we returned to the farmhouse
On the windows all bright
There crept a frost of such fineness
I thought the sun had left cracks in my eyes
Then in from the lake
Blew a wind like a silence
I'd say what happened happened there
Out there on that island
If the earth and the sky
Become more than a match
And if the fires we're feeding
Need no longer ask
And if the forests that shield us
Splinter to matches
And the outside creeps under
Like a child snatcher's hand
Lest our boats lose their buoyancy
To the lake bottom blackest
And that lake rise up steaming
Leaving a blanket of ash
Lest we're beaten by breezes
And start bleeding molasses
Prepare to be steamrolled
By histories' passage
And judged on your past
And to have your hide tanned
We went looking for trouble
And it's trouble we found
Well if you're looking for trouble
It's trouble you've found
Here's the crux of our problem
The way that things stand
Granddaddy was a farmer
He worked clearing the land
Although he never once held
An axe in his hands
But with a pick-axe he'd hack
At rock and at sky
Burying black boys by moonlight on an island