A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Ben Howard

"Untitled"

Birch tree lost its branch one day in violent winter

I said it was grieving, you said it don't feel nothing

I bet you think everything's in its rightful place

That sentiment is man's disgrace

Well the rooks in the trees they dont half bother me

Clawing at my mind with every given opportunity

It's spring outside, a perilous sky, and that terrible clattering sound

f*ck it you said, you should go shoot them down

So hey, that's me

Shooting at a 100 year old rookery

Oh look at me

The definition of futility

It's what you say anyway

So I'll go back to working through the gentle hours of the evening

Where the weather and the wine and the company treats me easily

Unknowing am I of the wound that took my eye

Unknowing am I of the wound

Unknowing am I of the wound that took my eye

Unknowing am I of the wound

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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